


Come of Age

by Fadesintothewest



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Coming of Age, Depression, M/M, Sexuality and Noldorin prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadesintothewest/pseuds/Fadesintothewest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon is recently come of age. Maedhros is recently returned to Tirion. Together they forge an everlasting friendship. Maedhros comes to terms with aspects of himself. Together, the two face the conservative social customs and politics of Noldorin society.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come of Age

**Author's Note:**

> I have never viewed Aman as a paradise. It was promised as such, but it didn't play out that way. For me the conflicts that led to the rebellion of the Noldor were brewing before Melkor stirred the pot. Indeed, Melkor flamed what was already there. I have always had deep distrust of perfection and this influences how I read Tolkien.

Chapter 1: Come of Age

 

The light of Laurelin was resplendent upon the tops of Túna. The great tree of the Elves, Galathilion, sparkled, towering in the center of the Great Square. The Palace, on the Western precipice of Túna was gifted with great vistas of the square below and the Noldor city of Tirion that spilled down like a fine netted silver necklace laden with pearls down the hill. Beyond the City, through the Pass of Calacirya, the waters of the Bay of Eldamar danced, catching the light of great tree of Laurelin. On this day, the clean ocean breeze, cleansed the tops of Túna, reminding the Noldor of their voyage to this side of the sea. The day promised to be auspicious.

 

Standing on the palace portico were two of the House of Finwë. Silence stretched between them as the bells rung from the palace towers, announcing the end of the court season, welcoming the time of respite and leisure. The two grandsons had spent their first season in court together. For one, it had been his first court season all together. For the other it had been his first season back in his grandfather’s court after some time spent away in the wild, uninhabited lands of Aman with his parents, Fëanáro and Nerdanel, and his gaggle of brothers that seemed to increase with every couple of seasons. The two, Maitimo and Findekáno, had become reacquainted over the long stretch of the season spent in court.

 

Indeed Maitimo had taken Findekáno under his wing, giving him advice, tutoring him on some of the more mundane but no less useful ways of life in court. They had struck up an easy friendship that replaced the one that had come before during Findekáno’s youth: the typical relationship between older and younger cousins, the young ones admiring their older kin. And always, Findekáno’s attention seemed to stand on an edge that bordered on inattention. Findekáno, though of age, was yet young, and his personality was of the sort that he had to work doubly hard to allow the stillness of discipline to seep in. And yet, Maitimo discovered that the stillness that he tried to instill in Findekáno was not entirely suited for Nolofinwë’s eldest. Findekáno, thus revealed a lesson to Maitimo he had not learned under the stern regard of Fëanáro: that there was discipline in motion, a quickness to the way that Findekáno made decisions that hinted at a thought process unlike that of his elder cousin. Neither grandson’s approach could alone be considered the best and most appropriate. Findekáno and Maitimo discovered that together they were a powerful team, their energies balancing one off the other.

 

On this day, Findekáno was fidgeting, anticipating the festivities that came with the end of the court season, and though he badly wanted to run off and prepare for the festivities that awaited him, he also did not want to leave his cousin’s company. Maitimo observed as Findekáno leaned over the stone railing, his loose hair billowing in the bursts of wind that would sweep up the imposing stairs of marble that led into the white stone portico of Finwë’s palace. Findekáno surveyed the preparations going on below, anticipating the night of laughter (and revelry) that would come with the soft, silver light of Telperion that embraced Tirion in shadow, unlike the bright, golden glow of Laurelin.  Maitimo was struck by Findekáno’s beauty in that moment. From his perch on the stone railings, Maitimo took in his younger cousins profile: the strong jaw, the full, soft lips inherited from Anairë, the high cheekbones, typical of the House of Finwë. And though Findekáno did not inherit the aquiline nose of Finwë that so distinguished Fëanáro and Nolofinwë and Maitimo himself, Maitimo considered the nose Findekáno had to be just perfect for the face it adorned. Maitimo told himself that his appreciation of Findekáno was purely familial pride. Maitimo assured himself that he drank his cousin in, if only to give rightful place to Findekáno’s beauty.

 

Maitimo smiled to himself. Gone was the gangly youth who had adored Maitimo. Findekáno had grown into what many had referred to as his feminine looks. Maitimo thought this description of Findekáno absurd and perhaps the product of private jealousies. Beauty was greatly admired in Noldorin society and those that deviated from Noldor scripture of beauty were made quite aware of their transgression. Amanian society’s obsession with strict gender rules was absolutely ridiculous, but Maitimo had learned where to voice his assessment of dull Noldorin aesthetics less he bring more critique upon his father.

 

Findekáno had consequently been mocked as a child, some at the hands of Maitimo’s younger brothers though Tyelkormo was likewise chided for his feminine features. But like Findekáno, Tyelko had grown into himself, now considered quite the looker, even for one with hair as fair as Maitimo’s younger brother. Of course, not everyone could be perfect! While Maitimo was considered a standard of Noldorin beauty--pale skin, keen grey eyes, and tall--Findekáno too was beauty to behold as were most of the children and grandchildren of Finwë. Findekáno’s beauty was unusual, and though Maitimo’s beauty was spun into great tales told to affirm Noldorin superiority, Findekáno’s beauty was breathtaking in a different way, and whispered about nevertheless: it was dangerous and different; too much a reminder of the “wildness” of the early days, before the Elves journeyed to Aman. And that, to some of those Noldor who could not tolerate difference and challenges to the status quo, was a discomfort too large to celebrate.

 

_Ah Findekáno_!!!, Maitimo mused, freely drinking in his cousin who was caught up in his own thoughts, _to see the world through your youthful eyes!_ Findekáno inherited the golden, sun-kissed skin and bright blue eyes from Indis, typical of some of the Vanyar. Findekáno’s hair, which was justly renowned among the Noldor, was the deepest shade of black, falling like a thick silk to his waste, the typical Noldorin twist absent from the weight of his hair. Maitimo on the other hand had hair atypical of any elf, deep dark hues of red and fiery brown, undulating and wild. For this, and perhaps because he was Fëanáro’s eldest and thus the most eligible bachelor after the marriage of Arafinwë and Eärwen, Maitimo was spoken of as the most handsome of the Noldor. Certainly, Maitimo lived up me to the name Nerdanel bestowed upon him. Granted, Maitimo was tall and strong, there would be others that would be taller than he, though Turukáno was but an adolescent, he was already the height of Arafinwë.

 

Such silly things that mattered to the Noldor, Maitimo considered, such vain and trivial silly things to measure one against the other. So often Maitimo was told, depending on the folk: _“Nolofinwë stands but mere inches shorter…_ or… _But Maitimo is taller than Nolofinwë!!”_ Despite the fact that Findekáno was the same height as his father and both were considered elves of considerable height, Maitimo’s height was used as a sort of bragging right by those followers of Fëanáro-for followers there were of each of the sons and daughters of Finwë. While some were vocationed to the children of Finwë, others chose their alignment on philosophical and political grounds.

 

Maitimo was struck by a thought in that moment: what truly was the reason for his own personal defense of Findekáno’s beauty? Turning to study the Great Square below them, Maitimo watched as a pavilion was erected and green Fëanorian lamps were hung from the smaller trees that lined the Square. Maitimo frowned. The idea that Findekáno would partake in the festivities below was somehow distasteful. Maitimo rubbished the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. In fact, Maitimo made up his mind in that moment that he would personally escort Findekáno to the festivities and introduce him to some of the young women who sought Maitimo’s company. Of course Findekáno could not be an innocent, a subject not broached between the two until that moment.

 

“Findekáno what do you know about love?” Maitimo asked his cousin who was surreptitiously eyeing a number of maidens walking the Great Square below. Maitimo was surprised by the words that seemed to tumble out of his mouth on their own accord. He wanted to broach the subject, but not so boldly.

 

Findekáno turned to face Maitimo, his bright blue eyes focusing intensely on the grey ones that stared back. “Now, of all days you ask me this?” Findekáno responded, amused by Maitimo’s outburst.

 

Maitimo quieted the stutter that threatened to embarrass him, replacing it with his usual confidence: “Oh, ‘tis something about the feel of the day.” Maitimo returned his gaze to the activities below, not admitting to himself that looking too directly at Findekáno was unnerving. “I ask because you have successfully finished your first court season and unlike your coming of age, your status as a proper and _desirable_ heir is come of age.”

 

“Oh,” Findekáno’s eyes widened, with a not so subtle hint of amusement. “I assume you mean to tell me that I must be more circumspect with my desires this eve, that I cannot be as carefree with my attentions?”

 

Maitimo shook his head in agreement, while silently considering Findekáno’s revelation. “Your attentions are now more meaningful,” Maitimo spoke, his voice more cautious. Turning to face Findekáno once more, Maitimo continued, “I have been gone for a number of seasons and have not heard you earned a reputation while I was away.”

 

Findekáno laughed, in that large, open way of his, his deep voice resounding in his chest. “A reputation?” Findekáno scoffed, “Námo’s balls, Maitimo! You well know that we have the privilege of pursuing and fulfilling our desires without having much in the way of gossip ruin our good name!” Findekáno slapped Maitimo’s back, “Cousin, I know only too well that you were expert in this.”

 

“And how do you know this?” Maitimo demanded, pulling out a handkerchief to blot away the sweat along his brow.

 

“Why Lalwen of course! She took me aside and let me in on the dirty little secrets of our family.” Maitimo’s mouth was agape but Findekáno simply gifted his cousin a dimpled smile, continuing, “Oh Nelyo, come now, do not act so offended. You, like me, like all of Finwë’s heirs, were so advised, though I do think I had the best person advise me on the subject.” Findekáno could barely contain the laughter that threatened to spill forth.

 

“No, certainly not,” Maitimo replied, dismayed that Findekáno was making light of the matter. “I was not so lucky to have Lalwen guide me in these matters.” Lalwen was known to be brash and outspoken, one of the few who dared openly trespass against Noldorin social attitudes, and but a few years older than Maitimo. “But now the time has come for you to hear the advice that is proper for who you are in this moment” Maitimo spoke, annoyance straining his voice. “Or tell me, has Lalwen also advised you during this time?” Maitimo retorted, put out by the thought that Lalwen and Findekáno had spoken behind his back. Just moments earlier, Maitimo was sure he had Findekáno’s full confidence. Now he was not so sure.

 

Findekáno grew serious. He did not mean to upset his cousin. “Of course not Maitimo,” Findekáno soothed, wrapping his arm around his cousin’s broad shoulders. Maitimo had to restrain the urge to shiver. “I apologize if my careless words upset you. I thought only to make light of the silly standards and protocols we are held to.”

 

Maitimo shrugged off Findekáno’s hand, standing straight, adopting a formal posture. “You have much to learn Findekáno. Making light of such serious matters is unbecoming a prince of the Noldor.” Findekáno’s mouth was now agape. Turning stiffly to face Findekáno, Maitimo concluded, “I shall escort you this evening as is my duty as your mentor. I will be by your father’s home at the mingling of the lights.” Maitimo raised an eyebrow, awaiting a response from Findekáno. Silently Maitimo was kicking himself for the tone he took with Findekáno.

 

Findekáno’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his eyes narrowed revealing his irritation. “Of course Nelyo. I will await you at my father’s house.” Findekáno turned abruptly and noiselessly descended the stairs that led to the Great Square below. Maitimo watched as Findekáno made haste to leave, his brisk steps indicating his annoyance as he disappeared in the direction of the noble homes of Tirion. Maitimo chastised himself aloud: “What was that about Nelyo? What in Námo’s balls has come over you?”

 

)()()()(

 

Findekáno would have thrown the doors open to his father’s home had they not already been open, allowing the cool breeze to fill the home, so great was his annoyance with Maitimo. “What has gotten into him?” Findekáno whispered aloud to no one in particular.

 

“Gotten into who?” a male voice asked.

 

Findekáno peeked into the receiving room. His father was sitting, reading the day’s news and catching up on the last minute requests from unscrupulous nobles, most likely recently delivered. “Oh, Nelyo,” Findekáno answered, which truly caught his father’s attention.

 

Nolofinwë put down the papers he had been pouring over. “Have you and Nelyafinwë quarreled?” he inquired, trying to minimize the concern in his voice.

 

Findekáno threw himself on a couch next to Nolofinwë’s chair. Waiving his hand dismissively, Findekáno replied, “Its nothing father. Do not worry. I am not you and Nelyo is not his father.” The close friendship struck up between Findekáno and Maitimo was an issue of concern for their fathers, neither willing to disassociate their conflict to their sons.

 

Nolofinwë relaxed. “Then what is it?”

 

Findekáno thought about his answer for a moment. A smile broke out on his face. “Only that Nelyo is jealous that I take advice from Lalwen.”

 

Nolofinwë laughed. “Those two have always been at odds with one another.” Lalwen and Maitimo were close in age and never quite saw eye to eye on how to engage Noldorin politics. Lalwen always won out as she was the King’s daughter, and Maitimo--though he hated to admit it--was bothered that Lalwen had more sway in court than he.

 

“Of course they have!” Findekáno sprang up, “and I should have realized it when I was speaking with Maitimo.” Before exiting the receiving room, Findekáno turned back to face his father. “Do not wait up for me atto. I won’t be returning this evening.”

 

“No, I should think not,” Nolofinwë answered, his eyes once more scanning the pages on his lap. “But do take care Findekáno. I do not want word to get back to me that you have acted improperly.”

 

With his back turned to his father, Findekáno rolled his eyes. “No papa, you will have no such reports. I will be the picture of modesty and Noldorin decorum.” Findekáno flew up the stairs to his rooms. “You can count on it!” he yelled out to Nolofinwë who shook his head at his son. “I will count on it,” Nolofinwë answered, knowing Findekáno was out of ear shot.

 

Anairë appeared at the entrance of the receiving room, her head turned in the direction of Findekáno’s rooms. “I do worry Nolvo. Findekáno’s spirit reminds me too much of the impetuous and heady days of our people before we knew better.”

 

Nolofinwë grunted. “You mean before we agreed to come to Aman and adopt the asinine constraints of the Valar?”

 

“Nolofinwë!” Anairë chastised her husband. “I know you are in a rotten mood, but you sound like your brother!”

 

This elicited a snort from Nolofinwë. “I do don’t I?”  Placing the papers aside, Nolofinwë rubbed his temples, keeping the headache at bay that threatened to take hold. “The end of court season is always rife with the most ridiculous politics. These fools spend their time pontificating during the season when they should be doing and come the close of the season they expect their silly requests be honored.” Nolofinwë sighed, looking at the stack of requests on the table. “And here I am, court season adjourned, but not for me!”

 

“No Nolofinwë, not for you.” Anairë walked to her husband, placing her hand on her husband’s forehead. “But soon enough. Before you know it you will have answered all the requests with a stern no. In the meantime drink this tea. It will keep that headache from materializing.”

 

Gladly, Nolofinwë accepted the cup from his wife. Returning his thoughts to Findekáno, he was thankful that Nelyo would accompany his eldest to the eve’s feasts. Nelyo would most certainly keep Findekáno in line. The last thing he needed now that Findekáno was finished with his first court season was some lurid story that some lord would hold over Nolofinwë and Finwë trying to blackmail them for some outrageous request, or worse a betrothal!

 

)()()()(


	2. Flower Garlands

Chapter 2: Flower Garlands

 

Maitimo rounded the path that led to Nolofinwë’s home, a small villa that spilled over the hillside near the borders of Finwë’s palace. His horse danced nervously beneath him, betraying the rider’s mood. Maitimo had taken more time than usual readying himself for the festivities. What he wore could not be called understated, though neither was it ostentatious. He’d spent considerable time picking out his outfit--too much if he was being honest with himself--but Maitimo wanted to make sure he looked every bit the part. He chose a rich burgundy overcoat of velvet, trimmed with ermine, over a cream, spun silk shirt, and dark breeches that hugged his legs. He wore his long hair loose save a pair of braids that pulled the hair away from his face. It hung straighter than usual, the result of being twisted at his nape for most of the day. He liked the look of it and decided that this would certainly appeal to those interested. Upon his brow was a simple copper circlet that mimicked the twisting branches of a vine. Small rubies were delicately set amongst the copper vines. He had told himself that by attracting attention away from Findekáno he was saving the young man from who knows what!

 

Adjusting his overcoat and clearing his throat, Maitimo came to the shared stables of the noble quarter. His father had his home here and spent part of his time in Tirion within the noble quarters, but for the moment Fëanáro had settled his family in an estate at the foot of Túna. A young stable boy, who Maitimo recognized as his aunt Findis’ son, greeted him. “Laurëfindë!” Maitimo greeted his young cousin with honest surprise. “I did not know that you were of age to fulfill such duties? My, how time passes.”

 

Laurëfindë was not shy. With an open smile he welcomed his elder cousin, while waiting for Maitimo to dismount. “Well met cousin! I am indeed of age and happy that my duties as a scion of Finwë mean I can be a stable hand. There are worse duties one could be assigned to.”

 

“Indeed!” Maitimo enthusiastically agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair, a golden hue that would certainly be the envy of many a Vanyar. While the boy had his mother’s hair, there was no doubt he was of the House of Finwë. His too large nose announced him as such though in time he would grow into it. “Treat her with care cousin. I am afraid she is uneasy though I do not know why.” Maitimo rubbed the mare’s neck, soothing her with gentle words, but nevertheless he remained distracted.

 

“Worry not, she is in the best hand,” Laurëfindë cheerfully replied. Findis’ boy was always cheerful and betrayed no animosity to any House, though surely he heard his mother speak ill of Fëanáro. This bode well for the boy’s future. It suggested he was more inclined to make his own mind up about people and matters: a Finwion trait that some named stubbornness. “Enjoy the festivities cousin and give my regards to Findekáno,” Laurëfindë offered, turning to lead Maitimo’s horse to be rubbed down and fussed over.

 

Maitimo laughed. “I will indeed!” And with that Maitimo followed a winding narrow path, bordered by large evergreens. He’d always preferred this less formal path, rather than the formal cobble stone path to Nolofinwë’s home. There was a certain whimsy about it: how the trees shaded the path and the ferns lined the spaces between the great trunks. It was always cool under the trees no matter the heat of the day. For a moment Maitimo forgot the nerves that were wreaking havoc in his stomach.

 

Coming out on the other side of the trees to the small open glade before Nolofinwë’s house, Maitimo was greeted by the mingling of the lights, in this case, the time of dusk that announced the slumbering time for most creatures.  Elves, like some of their creature kin, were however children of the stars and so the light of Telperion seemed to conjure some of those same heady emotions that they had left behind on the other side of the sea, in the Outerlands. Maitimo paused. Sitting on the stone steps leading to his house was Findekáno. The damn elf looked….well he looked absurd, Maitimo told himself, but Maitimo was lying to himself about this. Findekáno was a sight to behold!

 

)()()()(

 

Findekáno was impatient. The mingling of the lights couldn’t come soon enough. He’d waived away his father and mother, assuring them that he did not want them to detain him any longer than necessary with small talk once Maitimo arrived. At first, Nolofinwë protested, insisting that if he did not personally greet Maitimo it would be rude, but Findekáno was insistent and eventually convinced his father that Maitimo would also appreciate having to avoid the mind numbing courtesy of exchanging forced pleasantries. Findekáno fidgeted, his knee swinging back and forth. Maitimo would not be late. That was not a trait of his. Nevertheless Findekáno was impatient, wanting the night to start in that moment. There was a queerness to the excitement that coursed through his body. Unlike Maitimo, Findekáno relished in the sensation, would weave those nerves into a clarity of sight that some declared overconfidence.

 

Findekáno, like Maitimo, took great care choosing his outfit. Findekáno made sure that it was not so apparent that he had invested any time in his appearance. Typically this was not the case. Findekáno had little patience for what he wore, but not this night! His black hair was haphazardly tied up in a knot at the top of his head. He chose this style knowing it highlighted the fine but strong features of his face. He wore a dark blue, well-fitted overcoat made of lightweight silk that sat short at his hips. The cuffs were lined with small sapphires. This was the only jewelry that adorned Findekáno save a silver, archery thumb ring on his right hand. Under the overcoat he wore the season’s favored spun silk shirt the peeked from beneath his overcoat. And while not his favorite, Findekáno debuted a trendy pair of dark colored, equestrian breeches preferred by eligible Noldorin nobles. His boots were a soft, dove gray, leather with a tooled design of leaves. In his hand he held a bundle of delicate flowers that he had to remind himself were in his hand lest he destroy them.

 

Findekáno’s keen hearing heard the crunch of boots on the wooded path. Looking up he observed as Maitimo made his way into the small glade that welcomed visitors into his father’s home. Findekáno shook his head in amusement. Maitimo looked stiff, so formal…and quite handsome. _Scoundrel,_ Findekáno thought, surely there would be more than enough maidens to share their attentions. Findekáno made up his mind that his priority for the early evening would be to make his cousin relax. This, more than anything preoccupied Findekáno. He did not like when friends and family were angry with him. No, indeed, Findekáno could not stand that and it seemed that Maitimo was indeed upset with Findekáno about Lalwen.

 

Excitedly, Findekáno jumped off the steps and walked towards Maitimo. He did not want Maitimo to feel obliged to greet his parents. “Shall we?” Findekáno asked, taking Maitimo by the arm and spinning him back in the direction of the tree lined path. Maitimo was about to protest, but Findekáno cut him off: “No need to greet my parents. I have informed them I have no time for that this evening.” Findekáno offered Maitimo a wink, his first assault in the battle to defeat Maitimo’s foul mood.

 

“I guess,” Maitimo muttered, allowing Findekáno to lead him back to the path. He was actually relieved. Try as hard as he might, Maitimo could not soothe the nerves that threatened to make him lose his composure and exchanging pleasantries with Nolofinwë and Anairë would certainly not help. It did not help that Findekáno unnerved him so. Why did he wink at Maitimo that way? _Rubbish_ , Maitimo scolded himself; Findekáno was always like that, playful. It was he, Maitimo, who was acting absurd and entirely churlish! But he couldn’t help it! Findekáno’s grip on his shoulder was searing. Stopping abruptly on the path, Maitimo announced, “If you would mind releasing me Findekáno. I do not need to be guided.”

 

Taken aback, Findekáno released his hold of Maitimo. “Of course Nelyo,” he spoke, his voice near a whisper. Findekáno began to walk but could not stand the tension any longer. Spinning around, causing Maitimo to stop abruptly but a mere inches from him, Findekáno went straight to the matter: “If I have done anything to encourage your displeasure with me, I apologize. It was not my intent. And…” Findekáno paused, squaring his jaw, his bright blue eyes intent on Maitimo.

 

Maitimo held his breath. Of course Findekáno had a right to demand an answer from him.

 

“If this is about Lalwen, then say so. I want no distrust or discord between us.” Findekáno’s voice dropped an octave. “It is bad enough that everyone expects it of us.”

 

Maitimo released his breath. Looking down, repentant, he offered his apologies to his cousin. “I too want no discord to lay between us.” Turning to face the trees that closed in around them, Maitimo confessed that he was perturbed by Findekáno’s relationship with Lalwen. “And yes, when you mentioned Lalwen, I was upset, but foolishly so.” Looking back at Findekáno, Maitimo apologized. “It is I who must ask your forgiveness. I acted the fool and allowed petty differences I have with Lalwen cloud my judgment. She is your aunt and I should not grudge you any relationship you have with her.”

 

“She is also your aunt, Nelyo,” Findekáno reminded his cousin.

 

“She is Findekáno, but being so close in age…” Maitimo shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to excuse himself further, but Findekáno was generous.

 

Clasping Maitimo’s shoulder, Findekáno offered, “I know this. Don’t think me so dense. You always underestimate me Nelyo.”

 

“I do not!” Maitimo retorted, though in truth it certainly appeared that way. His reply earned a good laugh from Findekáno. “It certainly appears that way, does it not?” Maitimo added, a crooked smile beginning to take shape. Smelling the sweet fragrance of gardenias, Maitimo looked to his shoulder. “Findekáno, what is that in your hands?”

 

“Námo’s balls!” Findekáno cried out. He had crushed the flower garland unthinkingly. Findekáno held out the pathetic garland of gardenias, their scent potent after being crushed. “Such a waste.”

 

Maitimo questioned delicately, “Did you intend those as a gift for a maiden?”

 

“Goodness no!” Findekáno declared. “They were meant for me,” he frowned, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

 

_Oh Findekáno, how absolutely silly and lovely of you!_ Maitimo laughed to himself. “Give them here,” he motioned to Findekáno.

 

With a look of utter disappointment, Findekáno reverently piled the garland in Maitimo’s outstretched hand, earning a sigh from Maitimo in response to Findekáno’s dramatics. With his other hand, Maitimo carefully covered the flowers so as not to damage them further. Looking at Findekáno with a twinkle in his eye, Maitimo suggested a heretical act: “Together we just might be able to make these whole again.”

 

Findekáno’s eyes grew wide. Surely Maitimo was not suggesting they harness the outlawed elder magic, but then again, it _was_ the only way Findekáno would get his gardenias back. And come to think of it, Yavanna would certainly not disapprove. The flowers came from her gardens after all. He’d only seen the practice done during certain ceremonies where it was allowed. The laws governing manipulation of living things were strict. The practice was entirely circumscribed otherwise. “Do you think we can do it?” Findekáno asked, his excitement growing.

 

“What is the garland thread made of,” Maitimo inquired, hoping there was some sort of element in the string that might help

 

“It is thread used for goldwork,” Findekáno answered looking studiously at Maitimo.

 

Maitimo’s eyes lit up. “So more silver than gold,” he exclaimed earning a nod of the head from Findekáno. “Then I do believe we can do this!” Maitimo continued, his excitement palpable. “Put your hands over mine,” Maitimo directed his cousin who did as was told. “Do you remember the incantation?” Maitimo asked, hoping Findekáno, like him, was curious about Quenderin, the ancient speech used in such rituals, that he’d memorize it.

 

“Of course I do!” Findekáno whispered excitedly. 

 

“Very well,” Maitimo whispered before he commenced reciting the old words, focusing his thoughts on the shape of the words. The warmth of Findekáno’s hands over his was soothing. No longer were Maitimo’s nerves assaulting him. Instead he found the closeness between them comforting. More so, Maitimo found that the illicit act they were going to perform together titillated him. Here, at least, amongst the dense thicket of evergreens and ferns, no one could see them and no one was likely to come upon them.

 

Once Maitimo felt weight to the words they spoke together, he concentrated on connecting them to the flowers in his hands. Findekáno was doing the same. Their minds were open to one another but their focus was so great on their task that no other knowledge was shared between them in those moments. Their energy was clumsy but their determination was greater. Together they wielded the currents of matter to stitch together the petals that had been crushed. Yet it was not such a burdensome task as they had been led to believe. Strange that was.

 

Satisfied with their results, Maitimo and Findekáno broke their connection and found themselves conscious of the wooded path and the hum of the trees around them. Maitimo revealed the contents in his hand. The flowers were whole again. Some withered a bit more than before Findekáno crushed them, but they were once more ready to crown Findekáno.

 

“Will you do me the honor?” Findekáno beamed.

 

Maitimo smiled in return. Moving closer to Findekáno, Maitimo wrapped the garland around the top of Findekáno’s head, crowning him with flowers. Surreptitiously he stole a glance at Findekáno only to find his younger cousin doing the same. “Almost done,” Maitimo whispered, a bit of blush threatening to rise in his cheeks. Once the garland was tied and secured, Maitimo dropped his hands to admire his handy work.

 

“How do I look?” Findekáno asked, inching forward, closing the small gap between them.

 

Maitimo did not want to say the first word that came to mind: beautiful. Instead, he opted for a safer reply. “You look…as intended.” Maitimo hesitated, but something larger than himself seemed to be pulling him. He leaned in to smell the flowers. “And you smell divine.” Gardenias were intoxicating, and for this they were favored during the spring fertility rites that originally came with the elves from the outer lands.

 

The two elves stood for a moment, leaning into one another. Perhaps it was the small enchantment they conjured together or maybe it was the heady aroma of the flowers, but time seemed to stand still in that moment. A gentle silence settled upon the path, the air cool.

 

The sound of hooves approaching broke the pair out of their reverie. Both seemed disoriented by what had just occurred. “I think we are feeling the after effects of the magic we wielded,” Findekáno offered, finding his voice.

 

Maitimo shook his head vigorously side to side, trying to rid himself of the strange sensation that clouded his thought. “I believe so, yes,” Maitimo finally managed to speak. Turning to look down the path, Maitimo frowned. “That sounds like my horse?” As true as his words, Maitimo’s mare rounded the bend in the path. She whinnied softly upon seeing Maitimo. Behind her a nervous Laurëfindë ran, stopping abruptly as he came upon Maitimo and Findekáno standing with the horse.

 

“My apologies Nelyafinwë! Your horse,” Laurëfindë gasped, “I am not sure how she escaped,” Laurëfindë looked at the ground at his feet, “I am sorry I failed you.”

 

Maitimo laughed. “Oh no dear cousin it is I who must apologize. I am afraid she is a stubborn one and hates to be parted from me. I should have told you to put reins on her and she’d remain in place.”

 

Laurëfindë looked up, his eyes glistening from unshed tears. “Oh,” he breathed. “I’ve heard of ground tying but never seen it much.”

 

Maitimo walked over and kissed Laurëfindë’s head.  “Of course you haven’t. Most elven steeds require no such training but this one here,” Maitimo shot a look of displeasure at his horse who had the courtesy to look down, “cannot be set out to pasture if not properly enclosed. So as I said, I apologize for not letting you know. It slipped my mind.” Of course it had slipped Maitimo’s mind. He was preoccupied with all things Findekáno.

 

“Well then, lets all walk back and I shall ready my horse,” Findekáno spoke, sharing a wink and a smile with his younger cousin who couldn't help but smile back. The three walked single file along the path, with the horse trailing, snorting every now and again to announce her displeasure with Maitimo.

 

Once at the stables, Findekáno whistled for his horse that galloped over eagerly to meet his rider. Maitimo was already mounted on his chestnut mare. “What a fine stallion,” Maitimo praised the black stallion that seemed more churlish than his mare. Of course Findekáno’s horse would be thus, Maitimo observed as Findekáno mounted the dancing horse.

 

“Let me guess,” Maitimo spoke as he rode next to Findekáno, “you did not have the heart to train out those traits that make this horse more animal than friend.”

 

Findekáno patted the horse’s neck, earning a shake and a whinny from his horse. “I think it entirely absurd that we desire to tame the natural instincts out of an animal. I’d think you, of all people, would agree with me,” Findekáno replied, turning a sharp look at his cousin.

 

Maitimo inclined his head. “In this we agree. I am afraid my friend has earned more than her fair share of curses.” A devilish glint appeared in Maitimo’s eyes. “Shall we let them stretch their legs and find their way down the steeps?”

 

“After you,” Findekáno answered, releasing his horse.

 

Down the steep uninhabited hillside of Túna the two horses ran, rocks and dirt flying as their hooves struck the earth. Maitimo and Findekáno shouted encouragement and exchanged colorful challenges with one another. It was a dangerous path but horse and rider were sure of their abilities. Within minutes, the hillside began to gently roll and be claimed once more by Tirion on Túna. The elves brought their horses to a slow trot and leisurely made their way once more towards the Great Square. “Is it not ridiculous that we ride such short lengths on our mounts?” Findekáno asked, knowing Maitimo’s answer.

 

Maitimo rolled his yes. “You well know nobility love to make a show of themselves. I am afraid dearest cousin that the both of us have bought into this silly ritual wholeheartedly.”

 

Findekáno laughed. Leaning over to Maitimo, Findekáno whispered conspiratorially, “But what I most love is seeing how my horse provokes the others and turns the lot of stiff necked fools running about after their horses.” Maitimo snorted in response.

 

“You sound like my father,” Maitimo indicted Findekáno.

 

Rather than be offended, Findekáno responded with his usual good humor. “Then on these matters your father and I are of the same mind.” Privately relieved, Findekáno was glad Maitimo was back to his usual self.

 

Maitimo smiled. _There. Things between us are back to normal._ “Let the festivities begin!”

 


	3. Repressed Memories

Maitimo had lost track of Findekáno, as he knew he would, but the nerves that claimed him earlier had returned with a vengeance as soon as they immersed themselves in the throng of revelers. Where did Findekáno go? At every turn he made there was another man and woman clamoring for Maitimo’s attention. _Fools!_ he grumbled privately. The drunken crowds were impeding his search. Thankfully, Maitimo spotted his brothers in the wine pavilion, of course.

 

“Maitimo,” Makalaurë called out, motioning Maitimo over to the group he stood with. Tyelko looked up from over a large mug of some sort that was more likely ale than wine.

 

“Where have you been?” Tyelko asked Maitimo, who was losing his patience with all the pleasantries he was forced to exchange.

 

“With Findekáno,” Maitimo answered shortly.

 

Tyelko raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He knew Maitimo was in one of his moods and had no desire to provoke him. Makalaurë on the other hand was a merciless tease.

 

“Dear brother, but why are you so terse? Dare we believe you have been rebuked by a maiden?” Makalaurë asked, his voice not betraying his amusement.

 

“Of course not,” Maitimo spat out. “That is absurd.”

 

Makalaurë slapped his brother on the back good-naturedly. “Then it must be that fiend Findekáno. What has he done? Competed with you for the attention of a lady?”

 

Maitimo turned his eyes on Makalaurë, only just containing his anger, but saying nothing.

 

“I thought he looked silly with that garland of flowers,” Tyelko offered, shrugging his shoulders.

 

One of the women in the group jumped into the conversation, “I thought he looked lovely.” Other women and men in the group shook their heads in agreement.

 

“Now dearest, hold your tongue lest gossip run that you prefer Nolofinwë’s eldest over me,” Makalaurë chided his lady.

 

Curulírë wrapped her arm through Makalaurë’s. “Oh my, imagine that. Gossip that pits a Nolofinwion against a Fëanorian. Nooo we mustn’t have that,” she added, her voice drawn out for exaggeration. “But,” she continued, matter of factly, “you must admit Findekáno has come into his own.” This elicited sniggers and raised eyebrows from the group.

 

“Of course he has come into his own,” Maitimo retorted, “and it is of no surprise that Findekáno is considered beautiful and desirable. He is after all a scion of Finwë. But what I need to know is have any of you all seen him!!”

 

The group was silent. Makalaurë opened his mouth to speak but chose to say nothing. Tyelko finally spoke up. “I saw him in the pavilion that is serving the ale,” Tyelko indicated raising his ale to Maitimo.

 

“That was not so hard now was it!” Maitimo spoke through gritted teeth. “Thank you Tyelko.” Maitimo inclined his head and sharply turned around to head in the direction of said pavilion.

 

“I feel dismissed,” Tyelko spoke calmly before taking a sip of his ale.

 

Makalaurë raised his hands in disbelief. “One never knows with my brother, but it certainly does seem Findekáno has upset him.” But before everyone could gossip more on the matter Makalaurë added, “And let us drop it here for well we know this _is_ how rumors begin to circulate.” The group shared an awkward silence that was finally broken up by an obscene joke that Tyelko decided to share.

 

)()()()(

 

Findekáno was not in the ale pavilion but Maitimo had found out that his cousin had left in the company of a maiden. Maitimo was infuriated. He had nearly scared the life out of the elf serving the ale to obtain this tidbit of information. He was acting irrationally once more. Just what had gotten into him, Maitimo could not say, but he didn’t give himself time to stop and think. There was one spot that Maitimo was sure Findekáno would take a maiden and he was going there to discover him.

 

Maitimo found the discrete trail between the tall hedges that divided the Palace gardens from the Great Square. Slipping between the narrow entrance, Maitimo carefully and quietly made his way down the path. Up ahead he heard noises. Laughter. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest. It was Findekáno, he was sure of it. But the sound was intermittent. Maitimo continued creeping along the path. Another hedge stood in front of him. He heard them again. This time he clearly heard Findekáno say something and a woman laugh in response. His heart beat faster but he forged ahead. Gingerly, Maitimo pulled apart the hedge to look to the other side. At first he could not see them, but after adjusting himself and the angle of his looking hole, his eyes landed on Findekáno who was trailing kisses along a young woman’s neck. She was pushed up against a stonewall, her leg wrapped around Findekáno. Maitimo froze, closing his eyes. His heart dropped, the blood draining from his face. Feeling dizzy Maitimo tried his best to stay upright. After what seemed an eternity, Maitimo regained his composure enough to quietly extricate his hand from the hedge. He was stunned. Shocked. But more than anything he was upset.

 

Before he knew it, Maitimo was running out of the garden and back into the Great Square. He collapsed on a bench behind a pavilion. Why was he upset? What was Findekáno doing that he had not done himself? What right did he to expect different from Findekáno? Makalaurë! He needed to talk to Makalaurë. Maitimo stood up--But what was he going to tell his brother? What would Makalaurë say in response? Maitimo once more felt lightheaded, hearing his brother’s voice in his head: _Maitimo if I didn’t know you better I would say you are in love with our cousin Findekáno._ Nonsense! Maitimo screamed out silently bringing his hands to his head. _Then why do you care if Findekáno is with another?_ He cared because Findekáno needed to be careful with his reputation. _Were you as concerned with your reputation? With mine? Why not act this way over Tyelko who is similarly come of age?”_ But Tyelko had not yet done his court season. He had yet another year before that! _Findekáno is beautiful._ Yes, he is beautiful. _He has a good heart and he balances you well._ Yes, he does, Maitimo agreed, his heart slowing. _You have never found a maiden to your liking. Have you ever wondered why?_ Maitimo had ruminated on the subject, at times being overly harsh with himself for his lack of interest in women. So much so he’d turned his energies into his grandfather’s court, his father’s work, and then into Findekáno himself.

 

Maitimo groaned, covering his face with his hands. These were not Makalaurë’s words. They were his own thoughts. _Oh Eru am I enamored with my cousin?_ A stillness came over Maitimo. The normal tension he carried in his shoulders dissipated. Controlling his breath, Maitimo meditated, tried to find that quiet center within him that he could always go to when things got out of control. But instead of quietness he found a bundle of images, images that clamored to replay in his mind. At first he did not recognize the scenes as being from his own life, but as image after image poured forth, Maitimo began to understand these were indeed his own memories. Memories he had somehow locked away. He could either turn away from them or he could confront them. For Maitimo, there was only one thing to do. He forced himself to return to these thoughts he had long buried: the time when he had seen a friend step out of the public baths that had sent a chill through him and kindled a fire in his loins; that unfortunate evening when he stumbled upon two men in court locked in a passionate embrace and found he could not tear his eyes away from the enthralling scene; making love to a young maiden and finding that he could not climax, embarrassing the young women for she thought she was not desirable enough. Maitimo groaned.

 

Why now? Why was he remembering this now? And how had he buried these moments away from his waking mind? Maitimo removed the circlet from his head and set it beside him. Maitimo then did what he did best: set his mind to a task. Maitimo remembered that he had read that elves could lock away feelings and events that were traumatic behind the veil of consciousness. He’d read one treatise in particular that had labeled the phenomena as “repressed memories”. A renowned Noldor scholar of the mind reported seeing a rise in such psychological maladies amongst the Noldorin elves, which he argued corresponded with the increasing social codes imposed on Amanian society. It was a report largely rebuked by the Noldor elite, but the report was nevertheless well regarded in academic circles.

 

 _Repressed memories. Yes I think I am beginning to understand._ It made sense that Maitimo would repress a burgeoning desire for men. It was, after all, considered an abomination against elven society to harbor such desires. Most important, it was a wrong condemned and punished by the Valar. Those poor souls discovered in lewd acts with the same sex were either banned from society and forced to live a life apart from other elves, or were taken to Valimar to be reformed. No parent wished this for their child. Maitimo began to put the pieces together. _I have misplaced my desire for males upon Findekáno. It is a natural response. Findekáno is beautiful and kind and generous…yes he is a stand in for these unnatural desires._ But what was Maitimo to do now that he could not turn away from what truly troubled him?

 

“So this is where you are hiding,” a voice announced, startling Maitimo. Maitimo looked up to find Findekáno standing near him on the path. Findekáno walked over and sat next to his cousin. “Is all well with you Maitimo? I would say that whatever is on your mind is certainly not about Lalwen.”

 

Maitimo couldn’t help his response. Laughing, he answered, “It most certainly isn’t about Lalwen.”

 

Maitimo’s lighthearted response put Findekáno more at ease. “Then tell me, what troubles you for I can see that you are shaken.” This time Findekáno did not put his arm around Maitimo’s shoulder, as he was prone to do.

 

“Do you think me a prude?” Maitimo asked.

 

“A prude? Of course not!” Findekáno rebuked his cousin, wondering once more at the nonsensical nature of his cousin’s thought process. “You are infamous for your aloofness with women. Scoundrel I’d say, but certainly not prude,” Findekáno responded.

 

“Better a scoundrel than an abomination,” Maitimo whispered, sadness once more reflected on his fair face.

 

“What has happened Maitimo? Please tell me! Your words and mood are alarming me!”

 

Turning the circlet over in his hands, Maitimo spoke, his voice a half whisper. “I once came upon two men kissing deep within the archives in the palace. They did not see me, but now I question whether I should have said something?”

 

“And why would you do that!” Findekáno clamored, springing up from his seat.

 

Maitimo’s eyes widened but he said nothing.

 

“Do not tell me you believe in the overbearing morality of our peoples?” Findekáno scoffed. “Have you and I not spoken for hours over the absurdity of the laws and customs imposed on us?” Findekáno’s voice was full of accusation.

 

Maitimo had not expected this. “I guess not,” was all Maitimo could manage.

 

“Surely you know that grandfather had a love when we were first a people that was not a maiden?” Findekáno asked, now beginning to understand that--surprisingly--perhaps Maitimo did not know the same family history he knew.

 

Maitimo once more looked at Findekáno with surprise, his mouth open.

 

Findekáno sat down next to him once more. “I see you did not know. Strange that your father did not tell you.”

 

“Yes it is,” Maitimo agreed. “Tell me more Findekáno, will you?”

 

“Findekáno’s bright blue eyes were soft with compassion. “Of course I will Nelyo.” Findekáno was about to voice a question but decided against it. _No, how silly of me to even have that thought, surely he would have told me..._ Findekáno put those suspicions away and told Maitimo the story of Finwë and his lover.

 

)()()()(

 

Maitimo was thankful for the end of court season. He would not be expected to call on anyone nor attend any social event. He’d done his time by being at the festival. Now he could sequester himself and repose in his father’s estate, away from Tirion, away from Findekáno, but not from his thoughts. The story Findekáno first shared with him about his grandfather shook him to the core. Maitimo felt his worldview crumbling about him. And yet he felt childish for that. Had he been only a man of words and not beliefs? But something deeper nagged at him. Maitimo decided that the only way he was going to get to the bottom of it was being as direct as possible.

 

It was a holy day. Fëanáro and Nerdanel’s staff was away. The only ones present were his parents and his brothers. Maitimo planned out the entire day, knowing who he would talk to first, where the conversation would take place, but what he couldn’t foresee was the conversation with his mother. That terrified him.

 

The first would be Makalaurë. Of course Makalaurë had noticed Maitimo’s dark mood. They all had but had given him his space. It wouldn’t be the first time Maitimo descended into a dark mood. He would always rise up for air, talk to his brothers, or his parents, and then all would be well. So his parents, his siblings waited.

 

Maitimo walked into the music room, carefully and quietly shuttering the doors behind him. Makalaurë had either not heard him or was allowing Maitimo his space to come talk to him. Maitimo scanned the room. A small hearth adorned the southern wall. There was no firewood within it. On the opposite end there was a large leaded window that faced the rolling hills that led to Valimar. A large piano sat at one end of the room. Next to it was a harp. Makalaurë sat at the desk that faced the hearth, furiously notating on a paper with his ink quill. Maitimo came to stand next to the desk, placing his fingers gently on the desk. Makalaurë paused but did not look up at his brother. It was infuriating how they treated him when he grew into one of his dark moods.

 

“Makalaurë, did you know about grandfather in the early days?” Maitimo asked.

 

“What do you mean?” Makalaurë replied, his eyes scouring the notes on paper he had written.

 

“That he had a male lover,” Maitimo spoke, not parsing his words.

 

Makalaurë dropped his pen and turned to look up at his brother. “Yes. I knew. Why are you asking me? You know father does not like us speaking of these things with one another.”

 

“Of course,” Maitimo responded unsure of what to think. Makalaurë now had his full attention upon Maitimo. “It’s just that I heard rumors about someone else and I thought, well no need to gossip.” Maitimo hoped that he had led the trail in a direction where Makalaurë would be curious but would not follow.

 

Makalaurë thought for a moment. “You know I normally would press you for more of that gossip but knowing how such relations are perceived, its best we leave it unsaid.” Makalaurë carefully eyed his brother

 

“Yes, best unsaid,” Maitimo responded, his thoughts moving on to his next task. “Thank you,” Maitimo offered his brother, leaving the room and carefully closing the doors behind him as he left. Truly he hoped Makalaurë would not follow him. He didn’t.

 

Next was Tyelkormo.

 

)()()()(

 

Maitimo approached his mother’s studio. He needed to know why he was the only one not told about grandfather. Speaking with his brothers revealed that they had indeed, like Findekáno known about Finwë. Maitimo refused to contemplate what was becoming the obvious reason for Maitimo being kept in the dark. Desperately he clung to the hope that the reason was something he could not conceive of.

 

“Mother I need to speak with you,” Maitimo announced as he crossed the threshold into Nerdanel’s studio that sat apart from the larger home. Maitimo was thankful this building was privated away in his mother’s gardens. He had a horrible feeling that whatever came to pass in that studio would not be what he was looking for

 

“Of course, come in,” Nerdanel absentmindedly answered, her eyes and hands tracing over the clay form of a raw sculpture.

 

Maitimo entered her studio and closed the door. “Do we have privacy here?” Maitimo asked, though he knew the answer. He simply wanted his mother to understand he needed her full attention.

 

Nerdanel looked up from her sculpture noticing the intensity in her son’s eyes. “Yes we do.” Cleaning her hands on her apron she motioned for Maitimo to sit next to her. Nerdanel noticed that this was more than Maitimo’s dark moods. Something else was afoot.

 

Coming to sit next to her Maitimo asked, “Do you know about grandfather’s relationship with a man before he journeyed?”

 

Nerdanel’s face went pale. “No, no, why would you say such rubbish Maitimo--

 

Before she could continue Maitimo interrupted her, “--You are lying mother. I know you too well. I _need_ you to be honest with me.”

 

“But Maitimo, what-“

 

“-If you love me and care for my health and sanity you will speak frankly.”

 

Maitimo looked at his mother with an intensity she had not born from him ever. This was serious. It was the type of serious Nerdanel had hoped would not materialize but the moment was here and what was on the other side scared her. “Yes I knew,” she relented.

 

“And why am I the only one of my brothers and cousins not to know this story?” Maitimo struggled to keep from shouting.

 

Of course Maitimo would somehow find out. They had been silly to believe otherwise. “I asked your father not to share this story with you,” Nerdanel revealed.

 

“Why!” Maitimo retorted, angrily pulling his mother’s chair towards him. “What would compel you to do this?”

 

Tears fell from Nerdanel’s face onto her clothes. “It was a premonition I had Nelyo,” she whispered reaching out to touch Nelyo’s face.

 

Nelyo pulled his face away from her touch. “What did you see?”

 

“I saw your heart’s desire and it was not a maiden.”

 

Maitimo stood abruptly toppling his chair over in the process. Rather than letting his mother continue, Maitimo finished the story for her. “And you thought that because you believed this to be something that might be true, you asked father not to share this story with me for fear it would encourage my deviance? That somehow if I was told of my grandfather’s lover that I would find comfort knowing I was not alone and that the laws and customs in this are also rubbish? Did you cling to the hope that I would find love and marry a maiden and your premonition nothing but a mother’s fear?”

 

Nerdanel was quietly sobbing. Nelyo grabbed her arm. “Answer me mother.”

 

“Yes,” she breathed.

 

Maitimo spun away from his mother. His shoulders were shaking as tears spilled, uncontrolled. “I would have you know that I have suffered. I would have you know that I so deeply repressed my unholy desires that I almost ruined one of the few friendships I value the most.” Spinning back to face his mother, Nelyo spat out, “Does it make you feel like a good mother to know you stole any sort of hope and comfort from me? That I have agonized with every maiden that I have courted for the emptiness that I felt in my heart? I thought myself a monster that only desired flesh to satiate my own personal lust that was void of love.” Maitimo suddenly had clarity of sight. The rolling dark moods that came to him regular like the tide now had a reason, a source.

 

“Maitimo please forgive me!” Nerdanel threw herself at her son’s feet. “Please know that I acted as I knew best.” Though Nerdanel tried to grab Maitimo’s hand, he managed to free himself of it, but he did not throw his mother away from him. Nerdanel continued. “I made a choice knowing that if true there would be no comfort in Finwë’s story of forbidden love. You are the scion of the King. There is no sort of hope for you in this. I have always tried to protect you and fill you with love so that you could withstand the hurt you might face.”

 

“Oh mother,” Maitimo cried out, defeated, the years of his brothers’ jealousies of his mother’s attentions towards him making sense. Falling into her arms, “I do not want this. Please take it out of me,” Maitimo cried, unleashing the self-loathing that had driven his dark moods.

 

Maitimo ripped out Nerdanel’s heart with his words. “Forgive me my son. I have failed you. I did not know how to protect you. I have been alone in this.”

 

“Alone? What of father?” Maitimo asked, his thoughts taking shape amongst the cloud of hurt and despair.

 

“Father never truly believed my premonition, but he respected me enough to not share that story with me. He must not know,” Nerdanel warned, wrapping her arms tightly around her eldest son.

 

Maitimo quieted. Another part of his world crumbling. “No. He must not know,” Maitimo whispered.

 

“Oh Maitimo, do not do this. Your father loves you. He would love you even if he knew, but it would be a challenge for him. You must understand this,” Nerdanel tried to soothe Maitimo but even she was unsure. The landscape that erupted before her was entirely new and she was afraid.

 

Maitimo wiped away the tears from his eyes. “I do, I think,” Maitimo confessed, uncertainty filling him. “Yet I feel entirely alone in the world, asking who will try to understand me.”

 

Nerdanel held her son’s face. “I will.”

 

There was nothing like a mother’s love. Maitimo felt small, felt once more a child. “Do you wish I would have been born different?”

 

“I do not,” Nerdanel answered, her heart dissolving into an abyss of pain.

 

“You do not believe that,” Maitimo spoke, his voice breaking with sorrow.

 

“I do,” Nerdanel spoke more resolutely.

 

“But how?” Maitimo asked, his grasp on the order of the world around him lost.

 

“Because the moment I saw your face for the first time and heard your bright Song in its fullness, I knew of your perfection,” Nerdanel spoke, remembering that moment and once more hearing her son’s Song: Perfect. “My beautiful Maitimo,” she continued, “for once I do not know what advice to give you, what to say, except go to Finwë. Speak your heart with him.” Nerdanel felt her heart take shape. All was not lost. She would fight for Maitimo.

 

Maitimo smiled. A little bit of hope. Would there be another who would understand him? He hoped so.


	4. A Betrothal

* * *

Maitimo did not sleep well for the next few nights, but he found that the anxiety that would surge with any sound--doors closing, items dropping--was no longer sending shocks through his system. If word got out about Maitimo’s depression and anxieties, it would send tongues wagging across Tirion, indeed all of Elvenhome. He would not give them the pleasure to think him weak. _But I am not weak_ , Maitimo affirmed. _I cannot imagine any of those spineless fools being able to manage even a hint of what ails me._ This latest depression was more terrible than those that came before. In fact, the family had settled into an acceptance and expectance around Maitimo’s condition, but this one was different. Yet no one, except Nerdanel, thought to act different. While his father, Fëanáro was suspicious, he acted no differently with Maitimo, but this lack of change on his father’s part seemed forced.

 

And then there was Findekáno. Maitimo smiled. He could always count on his cousin. Findekáno knew of Maitimo’s moods. When Maitimo had first confessed to Findekáno of his depression, he expected Findekáno to make light of it, but he did not. Findekáno had listened to him, in that earnest way of his, and when one of Maitimo’s episodes struck him, Findekáno had simply sat with him, saying nothing. Truly, Findekáno and Maitimo were the best of friends, closer than brothers. But Maitimo could not see him, had sent him away in this episode. _Episode_ , Maitimo smiled bitterly. His depression was not something that came and went and was forgotten. It was a deep part of his being and all the healers he had seen could not ward it away. This time it was different. Whereas, previously Maitimo learned to live with the sensation of being drowned, this time he felt himself emerging, breaking through the surface of the water. This felt like rebirth. I gave Maitimo hope: hope that he could finally be free of the depression that suffocated him.

 

Maitimo was startled out of his thoughts by a banging on his door. _Who in their right mind?_ “Who is it and what is with the racket?” Maitimo demanded, heading to open his door. Throwing it open, Maitimo was startled to find Findekáno on the other side, his hair disheveled and a wild look in his eyes. Immediately, Maitimo went into a different mental space. “What has happened?”

 

Findekáno did not move. Hesitantly, he spoke in a soft voice, “I feel a selfish fool being here, seeking you, when it is I who should be supporting you, but I knew not where to turn.” Findekáno was despondent. Never had Maitimo seen him this way.

 

“Findekáno you have tried to be there for me. I haven’t wanted company, but come in, tell me what is wrong. You are scaring me,” Maitimo urged, pulling Findekáno into his room.

 

Findekáno threw himself onto Maitimo’s bed. “Oh Maitimo you are going to tell me I told you so.”

 

“I do not understand,” Maitimo replied, coming to sit next to Findekáno who was looking up at the ceiling.

 

Findekáno put his hand over his eyes, most likely to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “My father, in agreement with Lord Astarion, are forcing me into a betrothal with Herendis.”

 

“No!” Maitimo cried out, but silently Maitimo did consider that Findekáno’s dilemma was not a surprise. Had he not warned him to take care? But the sight of Findekáno despondent, pulled at Maitimo’s heart. Frustrated, Maitimo decided that the best course of action was to to be direct: “Findekáno just what did you do to provoke this?”

 

Findekáno sat up and took hold of Maitimo’s hand, “Please do not reproach me! I have had enough from my parents.”

 

“Of course,” Maitimo consented. Though he needed to be direct, it was clear he needed to gentle his approach with his cousin. “What happened Findekáno?”

 

Findekáno closed his eyes. “Lord Astarion discovered Herendis and I…er, engaged.”

 

“Engaged?” Maitimo laughed, though immediately he regretted that Findekáno’s choice of words made him laugh. “Forgive me Findekáno, it is just that, well… he caught you fucking his daughter.” Maitimo had wanted to be gentle, but it was Findekáno’s own words that compelled his amusement.

 

Findekáno groaned, but a hint of a smile appeared on his face. “That he did.”

 

“At Lord Astarion’s home,” Maitimo deduced. Where else could such a discovery take place?

 

“Yes,” Findekáno moaned.

 

“And what does Herendis think of this?” Maitimo asked, though he was alarmed by Findekáno’s carelessness.

 

“She is not against it,” Findekáno responded, but quickly added, “Though she does know my feelings. She knew I did not love her before we began our--“

 

“Before you began fucking,” Maitimo interrupted, shaking his head in disbelief. Maitimo was going to say more but Findekáno cut him off. “And please don’t tell me I told you so. I know this!” Findekáno cried out, standing up. “Father told me so, mother told me so, and even my jack ass of a brother told me so! The only one that says nothing to me is Irissë.”

 

“That is because she is but a babe,” Maitimo reminded Findekáno, amused by Findekáno’s self-loathing.  Maitimo drummed his fingers on his chin. “Why were you so careless? One might think you wanted to be caught?”

 

Findekáno shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Herendis assured me her family was away for the day. I swear it,” Findekáno dropping to his knees before Maitimo, “I did not jump into this blindly as the situations seems to imply. I even confirmed that Lord Astarion was indeed away for the day. I might be impetuous, but not a fool,” Findekáno added, sitting back onto his feet.

 

Maitimo studied his cousin while he considered the last bit of information. “Nevertheless, your reputation was used against you. Lord Astarion set you up.”

 

Standing up abruptly, Findekáno replied, exasperated, “Don’t you think I know this?” Walking to Maitimo’s window, Findekáno calmed his nerves. “Father told me this much. More like he shouted.”  Leaning his head against the glass, defeated, Findekáno pleaded with Maitimo. “You must help me. I know not what to do nor who to turn to.”

 

Maitimo said nothing at first. Findekáno seemed small, his body crumpled into itself, so very unlike him. Maitimo considered that Nolofinwë was backed into a corner. Lord Astarion was a respected noble, but he was known to be ruthless, pledging no allegiance to any of the King’s sons or daughters. In fact, Lord Astarion, and it hurt Maitimo to admit this, justifiably lamented the influence of Finwë’s children, rightly foretelling the conflict between the eldest sons long before it came to be. Lord Astarion had been close to Miriel, mother of Fëanáro. It seemed he had not forgiven Finwë for remarrying and having more children and blamed Fëanáro for Miriel’s departure. That was entirely unfair.  

 

Maitimo put away these thoughts, refocusing on the matter at hand. It was evident Findekáno like he, had not slept much of late. “Very well,” Maitimo relented, “I will go with you and we shall speak to grandfather.” Maitimo added, his voice more serious, “There are matters I need to discuss with him as well.” Maitimo hoped Finwë might be willing to exert some influence, but then again their grandfather might do the opposite.

 

“Do you think he will aid me?” Findekáno answered, his eyes shining with hope.

 

“I actually believe he might, but only because I will be the arbiter, do you understand?” Maitimo demanded, though he was unsure if he truly could convince Finwë to intercede.

 

“Of course, of course,” Findekáno responded, some of the despair he brought into the room, dissipating.

 

 _If only it could be so easy for me_ , Maitimo thought. “We mustn’t waste time,” Maitimo insisted, crossing the room to slip on more formal clothes. They didn’t have time to spare. “Go into the wash room and wash your face and fix your hair. You look a mess,” Maitimo accused, but his smile showed otherwise.

 

“Thank you,” Findekáno whispered, heading to Maitimo’s washroom. Before he entered the washroom, Findekáno paused and gifted Maitimo with the brightest of smiles. “How I have missed you.”

 

“And I you, now go on,” Maitimo motioned to Findekáno shooing him into the washroom. It was not lost on him that the smile he wore came naturally. They were certainly a pair. Findekáno’s troubles were no trifling matter and Maitimo was not so sure Finwë would do anything to intervene. Maitimo sighed. Findekáno might well have changed his life forever.

 

Maitimo considered how his own life had changed; perhaps it was for the better? Maitimo hadn’t believed that possible, but in this moment the sensation of hope filled him. He welcomed it.  It dawned on him that he was not flying into an irrational rage at the thought of Findekáno with a maiden. That had to mean something. He would return to this thought later. And just maybe, in his haste, Maitimo hadn’t considered that their best hope lay not with Finwë but with his father?

 

Findekáno exited the washroom looking the better for it. “Shall we?”

 

Maitimo whirled around. “I have a better idea.”

 

“You do?”

 

Maitimo smiled fiendishly. “Let us go to my father.”

 

“No!” Findekáno retorted.

 

“But--“

 

“But no!” Findekáno insisted. “Your father will use this as another tool against my father, lording it over him how he has failed as a father to instill in me proper values or something like that,” Findekáno answered, his hands covering his face. He would not be the first betrothed without love. He could not imagine spending the large march of time with Herendis at his side. It was not that he did not care for her. He had considered her a sweet young woman before the whole ruckus, but was not so sure about her innocence in the matter. Marriage was not in Findekáno’s immediate plans. That he was sure of.

 

“I do not think he will,” Maitimo answered quietly, unsure of his own statement.  Findekáno noticed the sudden change in Maitimo’s mood.

 

“Maitimo have I ever told you that you are my best friend?” Findekáno said, his words quite unexpected for Maitimo. A betrothal would mean less time spent in Maitimo’s company. That was certainly a terrible future!

 

Maitimo looked up at Findekáno. “What is the point of telling me that, though I feel the same about you,” Maitimo added earnestly.

 

Findekáno shook his head. “I do not want you to think me so self centered that I do not know that you are suffering. But at the end of the day there is no one else I could fathom going to. No one else I would want to confide in.” It was Findekáno’s turn to spare a glance at Maitimo. “I want you to feel I can do the same for you.”

 

“Findekáno,” Maitimo murmured, covering his eyes with his hands. His cousin’s words managed to stir emotion.

 

Findekáno pulled Maitimo into an embrace. “We are quite the pair aren’t we? Neither what our parents want us to be. You run to your inside, while I just jump out carelessly into the world.”

 

Maitimo leaned into the embrace, laughing in agreement. He’d never wish Findekáno be any different. Would Findekáno, if he knew, want him to be different? It would be ironic if Maitimo’s illness were found out. Like Findekáno, it would be used against Fëanáro. Being part of the Noldóran’s family exacted much from the young.

 

“Sometimes I curse that I was born a scion of Finwë. I think we need each other.” Findekáno suggested, stepping back from Maitimo, guessing Maitimo’s thoughts on the matter.

 

Maitimo smiled. “That we do.” Again Maitimo advised Findekáno their next steps. “Then trust me when I say we should speak with my father. And before you say anything consider this: yes, my father will lord this over your father, but it just might prevent you from getting betrothed.”

 

“And what about grandfather?” Findekáno relented.

 

“We still have to speak with him, but I believe that I must go to father first for it to make a difference for grandfather,” Maitimo clarified.

 

“Oh, I am beginning to understand,” Findekáno admitted, realizing that if anyone could convince Finwë of interceding on Findekáno’s behalf it would be Fëanáro: not his father, not Findis, not Lalwen, and not Arafinwë.

 

Hastily they closed the door and made their way to Fëanáro’s study. “But what about Herendis?” Findekáno asked as they walked down the hallway.

 

“You should of thought of that before you decided it was a good idea to fuck her in her father’s home,” Maitimo replied sardonically.

 

“I know, but…I do not want to hurt her,” Findekáno replied. Even if she was complicit in her father discovering them, Findekáno truly did not want to see harm come to her.

 

Maitimo stopped. “I think hurting her is unavoidable, but you can be decent with her.” Leave it to Findekáno to consider the feelings of one who may have compromised him purposefully. Shaking his head, Maitimo added, “I believe she just might forgive you in time.” Indeed, if they managed to stop the betrothal, Herendis would eventually concede her role in the matter. Maitimo did not believe her or Astarion to be malicious. Misguided, perhaps.

 

“I hope so,” Findekáno sighed. Maitimo grabbed his arm and pulled Findekáno to his father’s study.

 

“Here we are,” Maitimo gifted Findekáno a smile before knocking on Fëanáro’s door.

 

“Here we are,” Findekáno repeated, shifting on his toes.

 

)()()(

 

Fëanáro looked up at the door. “Come in,” he announced, turning his attention back to a large bounded volume he was reading. The door opened slowly. From behind it, Fëanáro could hear two voices arguing though he could not hear what it was about for they kept their voices soft. But he recognized one of them. “What is it Nelyo,” Fëanáro inquired, his eyes on the text.

 

“Atto,” Maitimo stepped into Fëanáro’s study. “Do you have a moment?” Maitimo cast a nervous glance to whom ever stood behind him.

 

Fëanáro sighed, grabbing a bookmark from the side table. “A moment, you ask?” Fëanáro repeated, closing the large volume, carefully setting it on the table, next to where his feet were propped up. Fëanáro studied his son. Undoubtedly, something was wrong.

 

Fëanáro had tried his hardest to pretend that Maitimo’s latest depressive episode was the same as those that had come before. But there was something different with this one. It troubled Fëanáro. Worse, he knew Nerdanel kept something from him. She had been acting differently. Fëanáro did not push either to tell him what was wrong. In this, Fëanáro had little recourse to draw from, had spoken to only a few about Maitimo’s condition. In moments like these, he wished to scream to the tops of Taniquetil to help his eldest, but Fëanáro would only damn his son if he reached out too loudly for help.

 

“Maybe more than a moment,” Maitimo clarified, scooting into the study. Behind him trailed Findekáno. Fëanáro raised his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps this had nothing to do with Maitimo’s mood. It certainly seemed not. The color had drained from Nolofinwë’s eldest face and he wouldn’t look at Fëanáro in the face. This was unlike the usually bold and charismatic Findekáno.

 

“I did not know you were here, Findekáno,” Fëanáro spoke, his eyes focused on his nephew.

 

“Forgive me uncle,” Findekáno apologized, glancing up only to catch Fëanáro looking at him with keen eyes. Stumbling a bit with his words, Findekáno managed to greet his uncle: “I came looking for Maitimo and did not, in my haste, send word that I had arrived.”

 

“I see that whatever brings you here has shaken you,” Fëanáro perceived. “Am I to guess this is why both of you are here?”

 

“Yes,” Maitimo answered, stepping in front of his father. “I thought we might come to you for advice.”

 

“Advice?” Fëanáro repeated. Now his curiosity was truly piqued.

 

Findekáno spoke up from behind Maitimo, “Maitimo advised me to come speak with you, though I know not where to start.”

 

“At the beginning, I suppose,” Fëanáro answered nonplussed.

 

Findekáno took in a deep breath. “I am to be betrothed,” he shared, dropping his eyes back to the ground.

 

“And a congratulations is not in order by the look of things,” Fëanáro assessed, shifting on the couch to settle himself for what promised to be an interesting evening. Maitimo was staring wide-eyed at Fëanáro.

 

“No, uncle, it is not my wish to be betrothed, but my father and another think it is best.” Findekáno worried momentarily if he had not erred coming to see Maitimo. Perhaps he should have gone to Lalwen, but his first impulse was to seek out Maitimo.

 

“They think it best?” Fëanáro repeated, knowing the love Nolofinwë had for Findekáno and that he would not lightly force Findekáno into a marriage.

 

Maitimo nudged Findekáno. “This is embarrassing to share,” Findekáno spoke, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.

 

“Go on,” Fëanáro urged, “I have heard it all.”

 

“I was caught having inappropriate relations with the daughter of Lord Astarion,” the words tumbled out of Findekáno.

 

Fëanáro’s eyebrows shot up. “I see,” he replied looking over Findekáno. “So I am to believe you do not love the young woman, remind me of her name?”

 

“Herendis,” Findekáno answered meekly. “I do not love her.”

 

Fëanáro stood up. “Of course you do not love her. Perhaps you should have thought of that before you put yourself in a situation to be caught.” Findekáno opened his mouth to rebuke Fëanáro, but Fëanáro waved him silent. “Hear me Findekáno,” he urged, “your problem is you put yourself in a situation to be caught. That was your first mistake.”

 

“My father said as much,” Findekáno confessed. Looking at Fëanáro, Findekáno made his mind up to speak to the heart of the situation, revealing, “I have reason to believe that Lord Astarion intended to discover me with his daughter.”

 

“Of course he did,” Fëanáro replied, running his hand through his hair. “Well you know this Lord is not what we could name an ally of our family.” Fëanáro was disturbed. He revealed none of his unease, but his stomach felt sick. He did not wish this on Nolofinwë. Of course his brother had no choice to condemn Findekáno thusly in front of Lord Astarion. He was most likely not standing idly by at this moment. As soon as he finished with Findekáno, Fëanáro would send word to Nolofinwë.

 

“I do, yes...” Findekáno answered, turning red, in his mind hearing the stern words his father had earlier shared with him.

 

“Does it surprise you that your father is following this path?”

 

Pausing, Findekáno took a deep breath, of course Findekáno had been too careless. “No, it does not.”

 

“Then start from there. Your father’s hands are bound. He cannot ask anything else of you nor can he ask for your grandfather’s intervention. This would…” Fëanáro spoke, his gestures suggesting he was looking for the right words to speak. “This would only deteriorate the already uneasy relationship with Lord Astarion.” Fëanáro looked up at Findekáno, his gaze piercing. “If you were in your father’s place what would you do?”

 

Findekáno faltered. “Perhaps,” he answered, unsure of his words, “perhaps I would send my son to speak with the Noldóran?”

 

“And have you given your father the opportunity to speak with you privately?” Fëanáro considered this his father would not likely oppose Astarion.

 

“I have!” Findekáno retorted.

 

Fëanáro sighed, standing up. “Have you truly?” Fëanáro went to his desk to pull out a blank piece of parchment.

 

Findekáno pouted. “I guess I have not truly let him speak with me,” he answered truthfully, watching as Fëanáro dipped his quill in ink.

 

“Of course you did not,” Fëanáro answered, exasperated, well knowing how sons could be thickheaded.  “You became angry with him, said what you had to say, and came directly here to see Maitimo.”

 

Findekáno shook his head in agreement, his hands clasped behind his back.

 

At least Findekáno had the wherewithal to appear regretful. “I will send a messenger and have your father notified to come here.” Fëanáro announced, quickly writing a note to his brother. “He is not going to be happy to come here and know you have spoken to me,” he added, looking up at Findekáno.

 

“But father I advised him to do so,” Maitimo interjected.

 

“And it was good advice my son. This is a serious and delicate situation Findekáno has gotten himself into and though you drive me crazy and can annoy me,” Fëanáro spoke, his attention fully on Findekáno. While his words focused on Findekáno, both Findekáno and Maitimo knew that Fëanáro had wanted to say, _though your father and I do not see eye to eye and frankly distresses me at times I will help you._ “Truly I find Astarion a bully, but Findekáno you have trespassed against his house according the Laws and Customs and you must abide by them, in some way.” That Astarion held Fëanáro responsible for his mother’s decision was absurd…and it hurt Fëanáro in way he did not admit to any, save his wife.

 

Findekáno dejectedly looked at Maitimo, but Maitimo saw the fire in his father’s eyes, focusing on the last words Fëanáro spoke: “In some way.”

 

“Go tell who ever is in the kitchens to prepare dinner and to bring out the wine gifted to me by Yavanna,” Fëanáro directed his son. “In the meantime, Findekáno, I want you to go to the library and find the long volume of the Laws and Customs, not the abbreviated one,” Fëanáro directed.

 

Findekáno’s eyes were cast down. “Thank you, uncle,” Findekáno answered, excusing himself, having an idea why Fëanáro might send him to look at the long volume of the Laws and Customs. Few in Aman were experts in it. Findekáno hoped that his father was likewise looking for ways out for him. He didn’t want Fëanáro to be the sole party responsible for releasing him from an obligation of marriage that is if they could prevent that outcome. Findekáno felt sick. Perhaps it was best if he married Herendis and not cause more grief to come between his father and uncle. Too late now he thought, coming to stand in front of the archway that led into the large library.

 

Maitimo, for his part, ran over and hugged his father, gifting him a brilliant smile, before excusing himself and readying the house for Nolofinwë and company. Seeing Maitimo smile was enough to soothe Fëanáro’s nerves. This would make his son happy. He’d have to remind himself of this when Nolofinwë arrived, and try his hardest not to prod and provoke his brother into their well-worn arguments.

 

)()()()(

 

Findekáno thumbed through the long volume. It was a large, old tome, and the pages were thin, which made navigating it challenging it. The abridged version of the Laws and Customs that adorned most libraries in Tirion did not go into depth regarding the punishment or consequences of breaking the strict codes. This was more than likely due to the fact the elven society had become rather complacent and in some cases, more adept at not compromising themselves. While Findekáno carefully paged through the text, a thought came to him. Perhaps it was not that people violated codes in lesser numbers; rather that these types of challenges were taken care of behind closed doors, just as what was hopefully about to happen. Findekáno felt a surge of hope. There had to be some way out! After a good deal of time spent looking for the section he was looking for, he came upon the lengthy punishment section. The language seemed archaic, the prose hard to make out at times. The codes made reference to codes found in different parts of the volume so that reading it was like putting a puzzle together. Grabbing a pen and paper, Findekáno began the tedious task of copying the different paragraphs that corresponded to the various statutes mentioned as he flipped back and forth between sections in the volume.

 

From behind him, he heard Maitimo clear his throat. “Could you use some help?”

 

Findekáno turned a glad eye to his cousin. “YES, and start by bringing the original codes of governance.”

 

Maitimo nodded enthusiastically and pulled out a set of volumes. “Any one in particular?” he asked.

 

“Bring them all,” Findekáno answered, exasperated by the illogical and confusing organization of the Laws and Customs. They had been haphazardly put together: a result of the rapid timeline in which they had been constructed. In better times, Findekáno reminded himself to ask his grandfather about the early days of the Noldor in Aman.

 

Soon the two managed to have pages worth of notes that Maitimo put into a narrative. Thankfully they were used to working in tandem on such matters, their court life demanding them such tasks but with less exciting topics such as waterway access or land distribution within the urban landscape of Tirion.

 

The hour was drawing to a close. Nolofinwë had sent word that he would arrive at the mingling of the lights. Maitimo and Findekáno had spent hours pouring over the documents. The best they could piece together was from a section in the long version that spoke of the punishment for fornication before marriage: of course one consequence was a quick betrothal of the fornicators; another was banishment (this one seemed weird as Aman was not truly a place elves could be banished); and a third was the right of public grievance. This third one referenced the older codes of governance and so Maitimo and Findekáno had to turn to those. They found there possibility, but before getting too excited, they had to make sure no later codes superseded or changed the option viable according the right of public grievance. They were in luck; no such codes had altered the original definition of the right of public grievance. It read: _Parties accused and who have been adjudicated of fornication, shall have the right of grievance. This grievance shall be made 1) in public and 2) before a council of appointed leaders. Adjudicated parties will thereby be given the opportunity to offer evidence that they were tricked by the non-elven into fornication (by witchery, fey magic, or the Dark lord) or the elven (deception, trickery, or otherwise)._

 

It was an old code that had come with them from before the Second Clan journeyed. It seemed to originate, and be suited to a time when these things were commonplace. Such was probably also the case with the second punishment of banishment. In the outer lands, such a punishment would be viable. More importantly, the older code did not differentiate the gender of the aggrieved party. In theory, Findekáno might be able to ask for a public grievance, but the entire plan that was beginning to form in Findekáno’s mind hinged on the word _adjudication_. Findekáno would have to demand adjudication of his trespass. Procedurally, adjudication was also a public process. The notion of transparency was behind the public nature that shaped the procedural definition of adjudication. This procedure and intent had not changed since before the Journey.  This would be devastating for Herendis as her honor and marriageability would be put in danger, but the old codes did not account for this potential fallout. In the early days of the code, before the Noldor journeyed, the differences between men and women, both legally and socially, were not yet so distinguished.  Thus the current Council might rule that both adjudication of fornication and the right of public grievance demanded unequal prices from the involved parties and could not be upheld.

 

Findekáno sighed. “The challenge is: will the King’s Council rule that the adjudication of fornication be read in light of the current standards or will they take strict interpretation following original intent?”

 

Maitimo shook his head. “I do not know. A strict interpretation is our hope. If they do, then they will decide that the adjudication must match the original intent and scope of the code on the right of grievance.”

 

Findekáno dropped his quill, rubbing his temples. “I can only hope that Lord Astarion will not want to put Herendis through this. I am a despicable person for desiring to save my hide at her expense.”

 

Maitimo disagreed. “She is no child and knew what she was doing, of this I am sure.” Maitimo placed his hand over Findekáno’s. “Let us hope that if indeed Lord Astarion thinks the courts will force Herendis into a public trial that he will demand something less.” Their plan hinged on the word adjudication and the meaning behind it. Nolofinwë and Fëanáro would no doubt have something to say. Nevertheless, both felt a deep regret for what they were potentially going to unleash on Herendis.


	5. A Meeting of the Minds

The Nolofinwions had arrived. Findekáno could hear Nerdanel cooing over Irissë and Anairë fussing over Nerdanel’s swollen tummy. “Soon there will be five sons!” Anairë announced. “I think we have to keep pace. What say you dearest?” Anairë turned to look at her husband. Nerdanel laughed, but on the other side of the door, Findekáno could only hear his father grumbling. Findekáno smiled. His mother could always soothe a tense situation.

 

“How long are you going to stand here?” Maitimo inquired, both amused and worried about Findekáno’s unwillingness to face his father. Maitimo gently raised his hand, allowing his fingers to settle tentatively on Findekáno’s cheeks. “Ever have I known you to confront the world,” Maitimo soothed.

 

Findekáno leaned into his cousin’s touch. “I may be called bold but that doesn’t mean that I am fearless.”

 

“Of course not,” Maitimo agreed, dropping his hand to Findekáno’s shoulder. “I am opening the door,” Maitimo motioned with his head towards the handle.

 

Findekáno took in a deep breath, nodding in agreement.

 

Maitimo opened the door. He didn’t have to push Findekáno into the room for Findekáno straightened his shoulders and walked into the study that opened into the private family dining room.

 

The gathered elves quieted, turning in the direction of the sound of the door. Anairë stood, making her way to Findekáno. Taking a hold of his hands, she led him to sit next to her. She also managed to lean into Maitimo and tiptoe to kiss his cheek, gifting him one of her brilliant smiles. She was a dark beauty, cherished of the Noldor for her black hair and skin white as snow.

 

Her grey eyes were piercing, and, it seemed to Maitimo, in one glance she let him know that she was both thankful for his friendship with her son and happy to see Maitimo feeling better. Maitimo had the grace to blush. Anairë had this effect on most.

 

Nolofinwë observed his son enter the room, watched as his wife led their eldest into the dining room to sit next to her. Findekáno at least had the decency to give him an apologetic look. Turning his attention to Maitimo, Nolofinwë was surprised to find Maitimo without the typical sallow look that characterized his depression. Nolofinwë managed to share a smile with Maitimo. Whatever he felt for Fëanáro was spared towards his children. He had no ill will to them, yet.

 

Nerdanel too watched her son. Privately she was elated that Maitimo seemed to emerge from his depression, though she felt guilty that it was on Findekáno’s behalf, but she would take it. Carnistir began to fuss next to her, upset that he had to sit quietly at dinner.

 

Fëanáro on the other hand kept his eyes on the table, patiently waiting for everyone to settle in their place. Once settled, he cleared his throat, welcoming his brother’s family to his home: “I find an unexpected joy at this reunion… a joy that will soon be tempered by serious matters.” Fëanáro scanned the table, his eyes settling on each guest and member of his family. “Welcome brother. Welcome Anairë.” Fëanáro raised his glass filled with wine, followed by all save Carnistir and of course, the baby. Nolofinwë quickly drained his glass. Fëanáro paused, startled by Nolofinwë’s easy show of nerves. Fëanáro decided to follow suit, drinking his wine in one quick gulp. Findekáno did the same and Maitimo laughed, copying his father and urging Tyelko to do the same. Tyelko did not need prodding. Makalaurë watched the table with amusement while Carnistir looked curiously at Turukáno who scrunched his nose while sipping the wine.

 

It was Nolofinwë’s turn to speak. “Thank you Fëanáro. As you can imagine, I wish our visit did not have to be under such circumstances. Alas,” Nolofinwë paused, turning his attention to Findekáno, “we are here to discuss Findekáno’s fate. Something I wish you would have given me the opportunity to do.” Nolofinwë spoke these last words directly to Findekáno.

 

Findekáno allowed his stiff façade to drop. “Atto, forgive my impetuousness. I should have known, I know, that you had to speak thusly in front of Lord Astarion. I did not give you the opportunity to speak your mind in private with me. I panicked.”

 

Anairë saved her son from any more potentially embarrassing apologies. “What’s done is done.” Turning her attention to her hosts, she continued, “Thank you Nerdanel and Fëanáro for taking my son in and helping him. If I may be so bold that we move to the heart of the matter. I believe that we just might yet come to enjoy this dinner after all.” Anairë sipped her wine, surveying Fëanáro and her husband from beneath her eyelashes.

 

Fëanáro tipped his glass in Anairë’s direction.

 

Nolofinwë sighed. “Very well, having read Fëanáro’s note, I am to believe that Findekáno and Maitimo might have something to report?”

 

“We do father,” Findekáno revealed, reporting the details of what they had discovered and sharing their thoughts on the adjudication process of fornication and the right of public grievance.

 

Maitimo interjected here and there to clarify or offer his opinion.

 

Fëanáro and Nolofinwë watched the two intensely, their stiff jaws the only indication of their state of mind. Both had little love for Astarion.

 

Their report concluded, Nolofinwë surprised the table, slamming his hand on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. “Astarion should know better!”

 

Fëanáro said nothing, allowing Findekáno to speak. “Father, of course Lord Astarion acted improperly, but we would not be in this situation had I not been more discrete.”

 

“I know this!” Nolofinwë cried out. Nolofinwë raised his hand to his mouth, biting his tongue lest he lay once more into Findekáno. “I did some of my own searching and came to the same conclusion,” Nolofinwë eyed Findekáno who looked down sheepishly.

 

Maitimo interceded. “How do you think the Council will rule? Will they apply a loose interpretation of the codes or will they follow a more strict interpretation?

 

Nolofinwë shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “What think you Fëanáro? I am clouded by my desire to see my son avoid this betrothal.”

 

“You believe the court will follow a strict interpretation?” Fëanáro intuited.

 

“I do,” Nolofinwë answered.

 

Fëanáro settled his gaze on Findekáno. “I think so too. After all, the early codes--even though they were brought from Endórë--were the result of the influence of the Valar on our people. Before the coming of the Valar, no such codes were in existence.”

 

Maitimo continued his father’s line of thought, “And so that is what we argue: that the old codes are the earliest manifestations of Valarin intent.”

 

“Let us hope it is so,” Nolofinwë sighed, “For if the Council agrees then the codes must be strictly interpreted and any change to Valarin intent, however early the codification, must be made by a quorum of the Senate.”

 

Nerdanel wiped her mouth with her napkin. “So you intend to demand an adjudication and thus make formal the charge of fornication?”

 

Fëanáro and Nolofinwë exchanged looks.

 

“Such a public charge would bear heaviest on Herendis. She might not escape this untainted,” Nerdanel continued.

 

Nolofinwë snorted. “Astarion should have considered this before he pulled his daughter into his machinations.”

 

Anairë set her glass down firmly. “I too want to see Findekáno free of this matter, but have you not considered that Herendis did this out of love for Findekáno?” Anairë had her attention fully focused on her son. Her heart hurt for her eldest, sensing that love would not come easy to him.

 

“Ama!” Findekáno retorted, “She knew from before we began our affair that I did not love her!”

 

“Oh Findekáno,” Anairë’s eyes grew soft, “you are naïve to think that she didn’t believe that she could turn your heart to her. I have seen the way she looks at you. I agree with this course of action but my heart feels pity for her nonetheless.”

 

Findekáno cast his gaze down to his plate, his finger pressing and releasing against the table, weighing his next words, his next course of action. “I will go through with the betrothal,” he spoke quietly but firmly. “I have had so little regard for her that I did not take time to notice her growing feelings. The right thing to do will be to marry her.”

 

“Nonsense,” Fëanáro spat out.

 

“Agreed,” Nolofinwë followed up quickly, unwilling to allow his son to sacrifice himself.  “Findekáno, listen to me” Nolofinwë commanded. “Astarion loves his daughter. We can hope that the threat of adjudication of fornication will make him retreat his demands all together.” Nolofinwë sighed. “And we can hope in time that Herendis’ heart will mend and she will be able to forgive you.”

 

Tyelko who had been silent up to this point and tried to make himself as small as possible felt compelled to speak. “Should Findekáno not also demand forgiveness from Herendis? Manwë’s balls, she set him up so her father would discover them fucking!” Tyelko was not only speaking out of solidarity with Findekáno, he was speaking out of the same immature and impetuous nature he shared with his cousin, elder only by a season.

 

Makalaurë choked on what he was eating. Turukáno let out an inappropriate snort, and Carnistir stared wide-eyed at his brother.

 

“Hold your tongue,” Fëanáro narrowed his eyes at Tyelko.

 

Anairë diffused the situation. “It is no use to adjudicate who has more right to forgiveness. I believe my son and my nephew will, in time, see this matter from a different perspective.” Tyelko looked away from Anairë. He couldn’t bear her keen grey eyes on him. There was something disturbingly attractive about her, which did not help.

 

“It is settled,” Maitimo announced, sharing a devious grin with the table. Maitimo absolutely enjoyed court politics and intrigue, and with every moment he grew more confident that Findekáno would be freed from his impending betrothal. “My uncle and Findekáno will demand the adjudication of fornication.” Maitimo made sure to catch Findekáno’s attention, willing him to accept this course of action. Findekáno looked miserable, but he acknowledged Maitimo, letting out a loud sigh.

 

Nerdanel once more found herself silently thanking her impetuous nephew for his timely intervention. Maitimo was absolutely radiant.

 

“Findekáno and I will visit Astarion in the morning with our message,” Nolofinwë confirmed, casting a quick look over at Findekáno who kept his gaze trained on his food. “What say you Findekáno?” Nolofinwë asked.

 

Looking up from his plate, Findekáno replied, “I do not love the scheme we plan, but I fear more a betrothal my heart is not in.”

 

“Then it is settled,” Nerdanel spoke, mirroring Maitimo’s words. “If nothing more needs to be said on the matter, I say we enjoy this lovely meal and reunion.”

 

“FINALLY!” Turukáno interjected. Nolofinwë shot him one his looks, which caused Turukáno to slump in his chair.

 

“Turno,” Fëanáro laughed, despite the situation, “I am not sure what is more amusing: Tyelko skulking next to you or you inching further down to the floor!”

 

Turukáno sat up straight, but kept his head down, his hair tumbling in front of his face.

 

“Turukáno,” Nolofinwë once more chastised his son.

 

Fëanáro shook his head. “No need. Let him sulk. I have a mind to enjoy this meal.”

 

“As do I,” Anairë added, “Irissë is still sleeping despite all the voices. I want to enjoy this moment to eat in peace.”

 

)()()()(

 

Astarion stood facing the window, his posture stiff, and his face pale. Nolofinwë stood quietly behind Astarion, his keen blue eyes intense on the figure of Astarion. Pacing quietly at the entrance of Lord Astarion’s receiving room was Findekáno, his eyes fixed on Astarion who had simply smiled when Nolofinwë informed him how they would go forward with the adjudication of fornication and how they believed that the original intent of the codes would be upheld.

 

Astarion, turned to face Nolofinwë, sharing once more the same bitter smile with Nolofinwë. “It seems that you have had the opportunity to change your mind my lord,” Astarion spoke, breaking his silence. Astarion, paused, turning his attention to Findekáno. “Do you wish to put my daughter through this Findekáno?”

 

Findekáno stilled his steps. “I do not wish to put your daughter through this.” Findekáno stepped cautiously towards Astarion. “Lord Astarion I admit that Herendis and I acted inappropriately, but I am equally surprised that you would willingly betroth your daughter to one you know does not love her.”

 

Astarion closed his eyes, bringing his hand over his mouth. Taking in a deep breath and running his hand through his hair, Astarion replied, “Yours would not be the first betrothal to begin this way.”

 

“No, it would not,” Nolofinwë interrupted, “but I know my son and he would never love Herendis. Is this what you want?”

 

Astarion laughed. “Shall we stop dancing around and get to the heart of the matter? You both know a marriage between Findekáno and Herendis would force your father’s hand to distribute power amongst more families.” Astarion turned to look out the window once more surveying the coming and going on the streets of the noble quarter. “Eru knows your father’s rule is lessened by the influence of his sons.”

 

It was Nolofinwë’s turn to laugh. “I have always known you have little love for any of my siblings, but you should know better than to go up against my father or his family,” Nolofinwë threatened.

 

Astarion locked gazes with Nolofinwë. “Indeed, it seems that you have gained the upper hand this time. I will not force Herendis into a public adjudication. I assume that this ends here?”

 

Findekáno was taken aback by Astarion’s lack of regard for Herendis. “You would sacrifice your daughter for political ambition?”

 

Astarion spared a glance in Findekáno’s direction. “It would do you well to learn of the extent those around you are willing to exercise their political will. Herendis cares for you. Such a scheme would only benefit her. She knows this.”

 

This earned a snort from Findekáno. “And to think I hesitated taking such a course of action.”

 

Astarion bowed his head, whether in mock or true deference, Findekáno and Nolofinwë could not tell. “I’ve heard that you are a noble one Findekáno and for this I am sorry.”

 

“Spare me your platitudes,” Findekáno retorted.

 

Astarion raised his hand up. “I did not believe you had such a heart but your words this morning have convinced me of your honor.” Turning his attention to Nolofinwë, Astarion declared, “For you and your siblings I have no such regard, and this well you know. And now I will ask you all to take your leave. I believe our conversation has concluded.”

 

Nolofinwë tried holding his tongue, unwilling to be goaded into a war of words with Astarion. “Very well.” Nolofinwë turned to march towards the exit, gently taking Findekáno by the arm. Before they exited, Nolofinwë turned to face Astarion one more time, his words chosen carefully: “I will not hesitate to protect all that is mine. Next time I will not have the courtesy to warn you. You well know that the only one that would have been harmed would have been your daughter. Men of the nobility can easily weather such storms.”

 

“Truly, there is no honor in treating with you,” Astarion accused Nolofinwë. “And to think I half believed you would go through with betrothing your son to Herendis.”

 

Nolofinwë smiled grimly. Without another word, he led Findekáno and they left Lord Astarion’s home.

 

They walked in silent companionship for some time before Findekáno shared a word with his father. “Father, forgive me. I had no idea that the discord ran so deeply.”

 

Nolofinwë spared Findekáno a small, loving smile, but kept them walking towards the Palace. “Perhaps it is I who have failed you Findekáno. I should have been more forthright in speaking with you of the state of things.”

 

Findekáno focused on the Palace that loomed ahead. “I knew the politics are divisive father. Maitimo told me as much, shared the same political schematic of who is on whose side in the same way you have, but I never heard of any of Fëanáro’s sons or any of you, for that matter, be preyed upon as I was.”

 

Nolofinwë shook his head, sighing. “Without a doubt, this latest move on Astarion’s part ups the ante. We will have to be even more vigilant than before. I believe, that at least for now, Astarion will bide his time. And….” Nolofinwë hesitated.

 

“You believe that Astarion’s distrust of father is warranted,” Findekáno guessed.

 

Nolofinwë examined Findekáno as they entered the Palace grounds. Keeping his voice low, he replied, “I would not go so far, but I do admit I do not entirely disagree with Astarion’s evaluation of the influence of my father’s sons’ upon him.”

 

Findekáno’s spirits fell. Shrewdly, he guessed what his father wished not to speak aloud: “Astarion is right to be wary of the influence of Finwë’s children, or should I say of Fëanáro’s influence on grandfather. Astarion believes that Finwë is torn between the lot of you, his children, and that he seeks to appease you all by vacillating between your political alliances, but grandfather has never done so.” Findekáno looked to his father, watching his reaction.

 

“I do not wish to poison you against your uncle,” Nolofinwë answered, his face betraying no emotion.

 

“I understand father. Yesterday, when I went to speak with Maitimo my suspicions were confirmed.”

 

“How so?” Nolofinwë inquired.

 

“When I asked Maitimo for help, his first thought was to go to grandfather, but then he doubted himself. He changed his mind, advising me to speak with his father first. Maitimo was certain that getting Fëanáro on my side would help getting grandfather on my side if we needed to end up going to him. I am glad we did not go to grandfather to resolve this.”

 

Nolofinwë seemed deflated. “Findekáno I do not want you to think less of your grandfather.”

 

Findekáno grabbed his father’s hand as they neared the palace. “I do not love him less,” Findekáno sighed. “I guess that’s a part of being come of age: that you begin to see those you love as the brilliant, loving, and fallible people they are.”

 

Nolofinwë squeezed Findekáno’s hand. “I am lucky to call you my son. Astarion was right, you are of a noble heart. Don’t let the politics of Tirion change that.”

 

“I’ll do my best atto,” Findekáno assured his father.

 

The two walked up the white stone steps that led to the imposing colonnade of white columns, carved in the likeness of trees. Finwë, Fëanáro, and Lalwen awaited their report within. Findekáno observed as court life buzzed around him: people speaking in whispers, handing missives, or lost in thought. He was truly come of age. He hoped that such conflict that lay between his father and Fëanáro would never embitter his relationship with Maitimo. He would make sure that no such conflict came between them. Maitimo was too special.  Findekáno was glad that Maitimo would be waiting for him as well. He looked forward to seeing his bright grey eyes and his smile. Maitimo would be happy to know that Findekáno would not be betrothed and seeing Maitimo happy meant a great deal to Findekáno.


	6. By the Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by Leonard Cohen’s song “Suzanne,” and in particular the divine interpretation by Nina Simone.

Chapter 6: By the Harbor

 

“…And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower

And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him

He said all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them

But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open

Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone…”

 

                                                                        -Suzanne by Leonard Cohen

 

 

The hand drums of the Falmari resounded throughout the Bay of Eldamar. They kept time with the rhythm of the ocean, beating its pulse to their unique music that accompanied the sailors as they readied for their fishing journey out into the deeper waters that would find them weeks away from home. Findekáno and Maitimo watched the fisherman lean over the sides of their boats, receiving the flower laurels and other gifts of departure from their kin. The two elves watched from afar, sitting on a wooden watchtower that was now perched in the high tide of the ocean.

 

Findekáno turned to observe the clouds that drifted in the horizon, the sky opening between them, allowing the faint light of Lauren to spill across the waters. The music of the Falmari quieted. Turning his attention back to the boats, watching them as they departed the harbor, Findekáno felt a lightness to his spirit. “Thank you Maitimo,” he spoke quietly, his voice just audible over the murmur of the ocean.

 

“For what?” Maitimo inquired, his gaze shifting to contemplate Findekáno, something he tried not to do too often for he found that he would catch himself falling into some strange enchantment conjured by Findekáno’s likeness. Perhaps it was the rich golden color of Findekáno’s skin, dark compared to the pale color of Maitimo’s complexion. Whatever it was, Maitimo tried not to allow himself to fall into that space that pulled him into Findekáno’s orbit.

 

“For being there for me when you were dealing with your depression.” Findekáno did not mince words. He did not shy away from Maitimo’s condition.

 

Maitimo smiled, forcing himself to look back at the sea. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear, Maitimo replied, “I only did what you would do for me.”

 

Findekáno shifted his gaze to Maitimo. He thought for a moment before he spoke his next words. “Thank you for accompanying me here. I think I would have been lonely without you.” Findekáno and Maitimo had left Tirion, residing for a time at their uncle Arafinwë and Eärwen’s home in Alqualondë, to put distance between Findekáno and the scandal that fortunately did not materialize into something more serious; yet it was serious enough that sending Findekáno away was deemed prudent.

 

Maitimo squeezed Findekáno’s hand. “Are we not charged to enjoy our leisure as gentlemen?” Maitimo had his parents' blessings to accompany Findekáno to Alqualondë. Nerdanel believed time away for Maitimo would be healing, especially amongst the more open-minded cousins by the sea. Though the end of court season marked a time for respite, it was not for all, for the cobblers, the carpenters, the housekeepers, the blacksmiths, and the many that were the backbone of daily life in Tirion were not so lucky to enjoy the extended times of leisure enjoyed by the nobility.

 

Findekáno laughed, his face breaking into the brightest of smiles for Findekáno smiled large. A set of waves came in, crashing at the shore. Watching the water roll in and rush out to sea Findekáno allowed the waters to shape his answer: “It seems out emotions are like the tides, rolling in and out with the seasons. Dearest Maitimo will you not unburden your heart? I know something troubles you.”

 

Maitimo froze momentarily. Of course Findekáno would know that something had fundamentally changed in him. If he could only walk across the water and return to the outerlands. Perchance in that land across the large expanse of water he could find acceptance.

 

The Falmari took up their songs once more, sending the remaining ships out to sea, by the grace of the Lady of the Harbor, a goddess that remained with them though they journeyed and left her behind in Endórë. The drumbeat was hypnotic, a constant rhythm that soothed the anxieties that edged at Maitimo’s consciousness. Findekáno leaned into the railing towards the song, his body shifting, moving with the beat of the drum. Closing his eyes, Findekáno allowed the music, the enchantment of the Lady, to break upon him. How he loved to dance! He allowed the music to fill the silence between he and Maitimo, understanding that Maitimo could not be forced into a dance he did not desire, at least not yet. Knowing that Maitimo observed him, Findekáno let his body move, his hips rolling like the waves, his hands stretched out towards the sky above. While the Noldor disapproved of such dancing, naming it crude, the Falmari did not divorce themselves from the ocean, allowing the pulse of life to guide them.  

 

The Nolofinwions were all good dancers. It was Anairë’s doing, her family had a close relationship with Olwë’s family. Indeed, Anairë had spent much time amongst the Falmari, it was the reason for her closeness to Eärwen. Anairë’s parents were also unwilling to give up the freer, more carefree dances brought from the outer lands, dances that some now deemed entirely inappropriate for their dedication to the sensuality of the body. _Ah Findekáno_ , Maitimo thought to himself, he too should have lived his life in Endórë, Maitimo considered. Maitimo sent a silent prayer to the Lady of the Harbor, asking her for guidance. The Lady had become a sort of patroness of the lost, of the elves just different enough, on this side of the seas. With his hand Maitimo pressed his hand against the delicate symbol of the Lady that hung on a thin silver necklace, hidden beneath his tunic, that his father had given him before he made his trip to Alqualondë: the first and only indication his father knew about Maitimo. For Maitimo, his father’s gesture was enough to know he still had the ferocious and intense love of his father, but Maitimo was still plagued by doubts about others. 

 

Findekáno reached out and grabbed Maitimo’s hand, pulling him into his dance. Maitimo protested at first, but Findekáno’s enthusiasm was too great. Maitimo allowed himself to be led and though his body did not have the suppleness that Findekáno’s did in dance, he delighted in way the drums fused into his own Song, encouraging his body to find that intimate energy that compelled the body to move. But something happened. The drumbeat grew more intimate, the melodies and singing of the Falmari gave way to a lone fiddle that announced the disappearance of the fisherman behind the horizon. Maitimo found himself pulled into Findekáno, falling closer and closer into him.

 

Feeling dizzy, Maitimo broke away from Findekáno, stepping to the railing of the wooden tower to catch his balance. He needed to still the blood pounding in his head, bring composure to his skin that was beginning to dissolve into energy.

 

Findekáno allowed Maitimo his space. Frowning, he grew still, observing Maitimo. Findekáno did not expect Maitimo to reveal what tormented him, but he wanted to make sure that his friend understood he would not judge him. “I am not blind,” Findekáno spoke, coming to stand near Maitimo, but Maitimo narrowed his eyes, fixing them on the horizon. Maitimo was closing himself off. Findekáno had seen it happen too many times. Leaning into Maitimo, Findekáno continued, “You can trust me, Maitimo,” his eyes focusing on his cousin.

 

Maitimo sighed. Findekáno touched his body with his mind. That was more unnerving than the warm feel of Findekáno gently pressing against him. Maitimo surrendered. “I am broken, forsaken.” Looking up at the pale sky, Maitimo confessed his emotions, “I feel the skies could swallow me. Or maybe I could sink like a stone into the depths of the ocean.” The words tumbled out, the tides compelling his emotions, pulling, conjuring, showing him a path through some of his thoughts.

 

Findekáno stilled next to him. He looked upon Maitimo with a tenderness and love. “And I would be the lesser for it,” Findekáno responded, “but more than anything, I wish you could love yourself.”

 

Maitimo shook his head, his eyes closing momentarily. That was the hardest thing about depression. Even now that he was leaving the depression behind, knew he had his father’s love, Maitimo found it could send out its fingerlike tendrils to create doubt and pain within him. He was unsure how those closest to him would react to his secret. _But how do I know that they will love me_? That was the thing about depression: it made doubt spring from where it should not be. Maitimo’s thoughts were interrupted by Findekáno.

 

 “Look there, between the seaweed, you can see them, like stars hanging in the sky,” Findekáno cried out pointing to the shallows.

 

Maitimo looked and saw a school of luminescent fish dart in and out the kelp beds, their skin gleaming under the water.  The fish, suddenly went still, their likeness like a mirror held to the sky dotted with stars, reflected in the water.

 

“Imagine seeing the stars above you so brightly,” Findekáno breathed. Maitimo leaned forward, a small smile daring to take shape. The fish darted out in different directions, creating an explosion of light amongst the shallows.

 

That simple beauty, it seemed almost stolen, but it wasn’t. Maitimo took in a deep breath. An emotion stirred in him. He felt overcome by the capacity of life to exist in that moment. His senses were not dulled as was so common when he fell into depression. In this moment, Maitimo was attuned to the smallest of details: the smell of ocean in the air; the coolness of the air on his skin; the way the horizon seemed to disappear into the ocean. Maitimo shivered. He felt a gentle, shimmering contentment.  He allowed this sense of peace to center him, to ground him.

 

“You can trust me,” Findekáno whispered once more, touching Maitimo tentatively.

 

Maitimo reached over and put his hand over Findekáno’s. “I know,” Maitimo replied, offering his cousin a smile. Taking a deep breath, Maitimo confessed, “I will never marry a woman.”  Findekáno did not tense nor pull away. Feeling more confident, Maitimo continued, “My desires are not for women.” Maitimo cautiously turned to Findekáno. He feared what he would see there.

 

Findekáno took Maitimo into a strong hug, surprising his cousin. “I know,” Findekáno whispered.

 

Maitimo pulled out of Findekáno’s embrace. “What do you mean you know?”

 

“I had my suspicions on the night of the festival,” Findekáno revealed. “It seemed strange to me that you did not know about grandfather. There could only be one reason for it. Your parents kept it from you for they knew.”

 

Maitimo opened his mouth to reply but did not know what to say, so Findekáno continued: “I am so sorry that you have carried this as a sin for so long.” Maitimo shook his head, willing away Findekáno’s insights. “No, Maitimo,” Findekáno insisted. “The true sin is that our people who have agreed to protocols that condemn what is only natural to us. How I wish you could have unburdened yourself with me.”

 

“But I believed you would shun me,” Maitimo admitted, unwilling to close the distance between he and Findekáno, choosing to hold onto the railing instead.

 

“I understand,” Findekáno soothed, threading his arm through Maitimo’s, offering companionship for his beloved cousin. Maitimo answered with a smile. He needed time to digest Findekáno’s words and so he turned his attention back to the harbor watching as the Falmari crowd grew larger for the feasting that would accompany the departure of the fisher people.

 

Of similar mind, Findekáno understood that they would have more time to talk, that Maitimo needed time to reflect on what he had shared with Findekáno and take account of his own feelings. Instead Findekáno decided that a night of merriment was in order: “What say we go down to the harbor and join in the dances?”

 

Maitimo looked up at Findekáno, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’d like that.”

 

They shared few words as they descended the tower, dropping into the water below them. The waves pulled at them as they waded to shore, Maitimo trailing behind Findekáno.

 

)()()()(

 

Findekáno and Maitimo wove through the crowds gathered on the large stone pathways on top the walls that surrounded Alqualondë. Findekáno walked ahead of Maitimo, pulling his older cousin by his hand lest they loose each other so great were the crowds. Findekáno made his way to the stairs that descended to the beach that was covered in vendors. The destination he rushed them towards was where the throngs were dancing to merry tunes, made the merrier by the wines that poured freely.

 

With every step Findekáno took, his enthusiasm grew. Every so often, Findekáno would turn back to look at Maitimo, his grin growing wider. Maitimo couldn’t help but smile in return. Findekáno’s energy was contagious. Nearing the crowd, Findekáno noticed that the elves were dancing in the water as the tide rolled in, splashing enthusiastically.

 

“Come,” Findekáno ordered Maitimo. It was clear Findekáno was not going to take no for an answer. 

 

Maitimo held his hand up in defeat and allowed himself to be pulled into the crowd. Findekáno kicked up water at Maitimo, causing his cousin to splash back in return. In each of the men, the elven spirit that delighted in beauty took over, their bodies responding to the music and dancing. Though the Noldor tried to tame the elven the desire for beauty in its most elemental manifestation, it could not be subdued. Indeed, the sound of the music, the deep thumping of the drums compelled the elves to movement, their bodies effortlessly keeping time. There was shouting and singing, a blissful fervor of motion.

 

Watching Maitimo enjoy himself, be given so completely to the joy and music around him, filled Findekáno with a deep sense of happiness. Findekáno grew still, a silly grin adorning his face while he watched Maitimo partake in the revelry of the dancers around him. “He’s a beauty,” an elf spoke loudly in Findekáno’s ears. Findekáno did not recognize the elf, but that didn’t stop the elf from shouting in Findekáno’s ear. Elf hearing was decidedly good. This lad probably just had too much to drink, Findekáno deduced. “You Noldor miss out on many a good thing,” the unknown elf chastised his Noldorin kin. Leaning back, seemingly satisfied with his advice, the elf stumbled away, getting lost amongst the throng of bodies.

 

Maitimo noticed the interaction. “What was that about?” he asked, coming to Findekáno.

 

Findekáno shook his head in disbelief. He was about to lean in to speak to Maitimo, but felt a tinge of hunger. He was still trying to process what to make of what the stranger had told him. Pulling Maitimo away from the music, Findekáno confessed: “I believe I was just given some interesting advice.”

 

Maitimo raised an eyebrow. “What was his advice?”

 

Findekáno grinned, “Let’s just say it was unexpected.”

 

“Unexpected? Did he offend you?” Maitimo questioned, rounding Findekáno, preventing him from continuing his search for food.

 

Findekáno rolled back on his heals so as not to run into Maitimo. “No, no, Maitimo,” Findekáno chuckled. He did not offend me. Quite the contrary.” Findekáno shut his mouth, crossing his arms in front of him. “Now if you don’t mind, I am really hungry.”

 

“Very well then,” Maitimo bowed his head, moving aside for Findekáno to continue his search.

 

“Oh stop,” Findekáno replied, playfully pushing Maitimo.

 

Maitimo’s eyes gleamed with happiness. He had imagined that Findekáno would be different with him once he knew, but this was not the case.  “I am also famished,” Maitimo confessed, his own hunger surprising him. Maitimo reasoned that his anxiety that had earlier dissipated had most likely quelled his appetite. It was a good sign. It had been some time since he felt this type of appetite.

 

Once again Findekáno pulled Maitimo by the hand, his nose leading him in the direction of the fried fare. “Oh this smells delicious!” Findekáno exclaimed. “I think I will have the fried scallops, and perhaps some shrimp.” Findekáno walked back and forth between stalls. “Though the oysters are tempting me too.” Maitimo decided not to wait for Findekáno. Instead of choosing one dish, Maitimo piled his plate with as many options as he could without compromising the structure of the plate. Findekáno’s eyes lit up. “Good idea,” he shared, following in Maitimo’s steps.

 

Instead of one plate, Findekáno held two plates as he approached Maitimo with a self-satisfied grin. “Let’s find a place to eat,” he announced, heading in the direction of the harbor wall. Quickly and carefully they made their way up the stairs and found a spot at a crenel. Maitimo used his height to carefully slide the plate in the notches in the crenelated wall. Once Maitimo had pulled himself up and moved his plate onto his lap, he looked down at Findekáno who was not sure how he was going to manage with two plates. “Hand them to me,” Maitimo called down. “Ill simply have to pile them on my plate.” _Let’s hope they do not fall,_ he thought to himself. Findekáno slid the two plates next to Maitimo. Carefully, Maitimo placed one plate on his food, and then the other. Holding the plates to his body Maitimo called down to Findekáno, “Ready.”

 

Findekáno swiftly pulled himself up, landing gently next to Maitimo. “Show off,” Maitimo muttered, causing Findekáno to chuckle. Once seated, Maitimo handed Findekáno his plates. Their legs hung over the edge of the crenel. The crenel offered just enough room for the two to sit next to each other, but neither minded that they were squeezed together. Their view was mesmerizing. The silver light of Telperion cast a strange glow upon the water.

 

Together they dug into their varied fare, Findekáno sharing with Maitimo the massive amounts of food he had managed to pile onto his plates. They made no small talk, focusing their energies on inhaling the food. In too short a time, Maitimo and Findekáno managed to finish the large quantities of food. Maitimo groaned. He’d over eaten. Findekáno rubbed his stomach, similarly complaining. “What have we done?” Maitimo moaned, his stretched stomach complaining. Findekáno managed a lighthearted retort, “We have been gluttons, but let none say that the grandsons of Finwë do not appreciate their Falmari cousin’s foods.”

 

Maitimo wiped his greasy mouth with his sleeve. “Without a doubt we have done our duty for King and Country,” Maitimo announced, letting out a loud punctuating burp. Findekáno burst out laughing, throwing his arm around Maitimo. Findekáno’s laughter was contagious. Maitimo too found he could not stop himself from bellowing aloud. Their laughter was only paused by the occasional burp that caused them to laugh even more uncontrollably. After a few minutes of laughter and some food threatening to come up, the two managed to quiet.

 

Growing serious, Findekáno whispered, not wanting his words to be heard by curious onlookers, “Let our friendship not be diminished by whatever discord lays between our fathers.”

 

Maitimo let out a deep exhale, as much from the food and what Findekáno had just shared. “I will not, Findekáno, for I could find no better friend than you, be they kin or not.” Deciding he wanted to revisit their earlier conversation, Maitimo continued, “That my revelation to you has not changed how you think of me reminds me just how deeply my regard is for you and yours for me.”

 

“But of course,” Findekáno replied quietly. “I wish such things did not matter so much for I believe who one chooses to bed or love should not be limited to some asinine beliefs imposed by beings who understand little of what it is to be elven.” Squeezing Maitimo’s shoulder, Findekáno leaned in more closely. “I only wish you could have confided in me earlier.”

 

Maitimo turned to face Findekáno, their noses mere inches apart. “In truth, I knew it in here,” Maitimo pointed to his heart, “but I repressed my feelings, hid my memories. I did not realize that this deep pain, my unwillingness to face who I am, plunged me into my deep depression.”

 

Findekáno allowed his forehead to touch Maitimo’s. “Do not lay blame at your feet Maitimo. Its this damn world we were born into,” Findekáno grew angry, pulling back from Maitimo to turn to face in the direction of Tirion. Fighting his anger Findekáno, made sure his voice remained a whisper. “Too many would use this knowledge to cause havoc, too hurt you, if only to hurt your father and grandfather.”

 

“I know this,” Maitimo whispered, a bit of his old spark returning. “I will not allow them such pleasure.”

 

Findekáno smiled devilishly, leaning into Maitimo. “Then we must make sure you can enjoy what you desire without the fear of being discovered.”

 

“And just what do you have in mind?” Maitimo inquired, keeping his voice low, though his smile gave away his amusement.

 

“I have some friends whom I trust fully, but I will not speak with them unless you are willing,” Findekáno revealed believing that Maitimo, because of his mental state had probably not made similar friendships, that he knew of.

 

Maitimo raised an elegant eyebrow. “This coming from the man who was caught fucking the daughter a known enemy of our fathers in his home?”

 

Findekáno grew red, sputtering, “No, no, I will not be so foolish.” Running his hand through his loose hair, Findekáno offered sincerely, “The consequences for you would be most severe.” His eyes narrowing, Findekáno threatened, “I will not let anyone hurt you Maitimo.”

 

“Just as I will let no one take advantage of you,” Maitimo replied. Letting his gaze linger on Findekáno, Maitimo found a fire rekindled in him. “Nor will I let them come for me. I will not be made to feel less worthy, not again.”

 

“Not ever,” Findekáno breathed, his blue eyes glowing with a strange feral quality.

 

Though many around them recognized the Noldorin Princes, they were left to enjoy themselves. Such intimacy between elves was not unusual. In fact, it was commonplace. But unbeknownst to Findekáno and Maitimo, Eärwen had spotted them and she knew them well enough to see that a fiery energy tied the two together. She witnessed something that was beyond commonplace. What that was she could not guess.

 

 

)()()(

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * underlined sentences or phrases are verses from the Leonard Cohen song, Suzanne.


	7. Alqualondë

**Chapter 7: Alqualondë**

 

**The Sea**

“Why does the sea laugh, Mother

as it glints beneath the sun?

It is thinking of the joys, my child

that it wishes everyone.

Why does the sea sob so, Mother

as it breaks the rocky shore?

It recalls the sorrow of the world

and weeps forever more.

Why is the sea so peaceful, Mother?

as if it were fast asleep?

It would give our heart, dearest child

the comfort of the deep.”

                                                 -Natividad Marquez

 

 

The days stretched out into months. Alqualondë remained as it ever was, the city on the Bay, dictated by the tides, by the life of the ocean. Maitimo and Findekáno’s friendship grew deeper, and Maitimo gave himself space to pull together the pieces of his identity he had secreted away, exploring what it meant to not be hiding such a large part of himself. The two cousins decided that upon their return to Tirion, Maitimo would go speak with Finwë, something Maitimo had promised himself he was going to do long before. He simply had not been able to bring himself to do it. Time was what he needed.  And time and distance is what Maitimo had in Alqualondë.

Maitimo blossomed once more, staying up the hours to speak with Olwë himself, not shying away from challenging political conversations. Eärwen who spent a part of the leisure season in Alqualondë with Arafinwë and the children, would invite unattached ladies over to official dinners attended by the two Noldorin princes, but it was Maitimo Eärwen was intent on finding a match for. No matter how beautiful and pleasant the maiden, Maitimo would ever so courteously disclose that he was not interested. Maitimo delighted in having Eärwen’s children around. Findaráto proved to be a better companion than Turukáno and Angaráto proved to be just as annoying as Carnistir. The babe, Ambaráto, was a fussy one, but Maitimo had that special touch. On the few occasions Maitimo and Findekáno happened to cross paths with the children, Maitimo would gladly take the children, much to Findekáno’s consternation.

For Findekáno, Alqualondë offered a different type of respite. In Alqualondë, Findekáno was free to spill his energy into the sea that, without judgment, weathered his boundless motion. The sea proved to be the mistress Findekáno needed in that moment. In the sea, Findekáno was beyond reproach from elven society, free to be the unbridled spirit. The Falmari tended to be a quieter people, open to life, but longer to stir to passion. Those that came to know Findekáno found joy in his bright smile, the way his face would collapse in instant joy, his blue eyes shining, and they found a man willing to listen and to learn for he was eager to explore the world unknown to him.

Alqualondë fell in love with the sons of the Noldor and they with it. Their time in Alqualondë was unlike other times they had come to the city by the Bay. Perhaps it represented a different sort of coming of age for both Maitimo and Findekáno: one in which they relished being away from the yoke of Noldorin politics that was increasingly toxic. And just maybe it was the time they spent out at sea, for weeks on end, learning the life of the sailors and fisher people of the Falmari.

Maitimo and Findekáno spent a stretch of time out on one of the fishing boats run by one of Olwë’s nieces, learning the ways of the sea. It was hard work: throwing out the massive nets and pulling them in. It was harder still to be given the arduous task of diving out with the nets, which the elves did to ensure that sea life that did not belong in the nets was not caught or entrapped. This they did by the bidding of Uinen, the caretaker of the creatures that lived in the sea.

Maitimo relished in this task, finding the cold waters of the sea invigorating and a sort of safe harbor. The hard work of swimming in the sea made him live in the moment. And such moments they were! Indeed, to taste the salt of the water on his lips, feel the soreness of muscles he did not normally use, and be in proximity to the untamed nature of the ocean sparked in Maitimo a hunger for life that he had not felt in the years he had fallen to darker days. The sea was the healer that Maitimo had looked for.

Just as challenging was the running of the Swan ships of the Falmari: making sure the gear was rigged, the appropriate bait caught and cut, the lowering and raising of the masts for fishing, and the constant search and reading of the waters. Findekáno relished in being a lookout, learning how to tell if the movement of the swell indicated a large school of fish approached or moved away, for Elven knowledge of the language of the sea was keen. Effortlessly, he would scuttle up a long pole to the precarious look out and perch on narrow wooden ledge attached to the pole, strapped in by a rope that allowed one to swing easily around the top of the pole to scan the ocean. For this the Falmari named him Valiant in their own language, which greatly amused Maitimo for since he was a boy Findekáno had been known as Astaldo, valiant, so named by his mother.

The Falmari fishermen also enjoyed their time with their Noldorin kin, making fun of their initial inelegance in the water. But they took advantaged of their brute strength, calling on them often to pull in the nets full of fish, teaching them how to guess the weight of the catch. Falmari fishing was simple. They would have it not other way. Maitimo often suggested that inventing such and such a device would help them in this task or the other, but the Falmari—while finding Maitimo’s ideas compelling—would courteously reject such ideas. For the Falmari, the element of fishing they enjoyed best was the closeness they felt with the ocean. They wished not to be divorced from that most primal parent by a device that would not allow the length of their back to feel the work of pulling up nets by their own hands. So adept they were that the men and women pulling up the nets could collectively guess the net of their catch.

Half way through their journey at sea Findekáno spotted a large swell rolling in the opposite direction of the swell that accompanied them from Aman. He had noticed the incoming swell weeks before, though small in size, but the Falmari had simply told him to wait. Undeniably, this is what they were telling him to wait for. It was a beautiful sight, the large swells collapsing into one another, crisscrossing, creating rhythmic patterns on the ocean surface.  On deck the Falmari lined the starboard side of the boat facing East. Maitimo stood next to them, all watching the swells merge.  Findekáno felt the hairs on his body stand up as realization dawned on him. This swell came from Endórë. But his thoughts were interrupted by the song the Falmari sailors broke into. It was a song of greeting, a song of coming together, a song of remembering. Findekáno slid down the pole, rushing to stand next to Maitimo. Together they listened to the song, understanding the significance of the moment.

“Did you expect we would see this?” Maitimo breathed, his eyes wide in wonderment, watching the waves collapse into one another, the waters greeting one another. Findekáno laughed, the spray of the water hitting his face.

One of the boat crew came to stand next to Maitimo and Findekáno. Watching the dance of the water, she leaned over, breathing in the unique scent of the ocean. “Our cousins on the other side of the sea do not venture this far. Ossë does not allow it,” she spoke aloud, watching Findekáno and Maitimo’s reaction out of the corner of her eyes. One of Maitimo’s elegant eyebrows shot up, and Findekáno simply leaned out the boat as far as he could, his fingertips catching the ocean spray. “This is as far as we go,” she announced, knowing that both Noldorin men would be secretly wanting to ask that question, but did not want to be impolite.

“Why sail no further?” Findekáno inquired, emboldened by the elf’s admission, though not speaking aloud what both he and Maitimo silently thought: _Why not go all the way back to Endórë? Does Ossë deny this too?_

“We cannot,” Galilas replied, her eyes looking into the distance towards Middle Earth. “When first we came, many sailors ventured past this line but Ossë would rile up the sea, sending the boats crawling back.” Maitimo turned to look at Galilas, a fire stirring within. Galilas could see the intensity in his grey eyes. “I know what you would say Fëanorian. My advice to you is tempt not that which you cannot understand the outcome.”

Maitimo held his tongue, but the spark in his eyes gave away his thoughts on the matter, though Galilas could not fully know that what drove Maitimo was more than pride. She could not understand that there was a type of freedom to be found in the outer lands, which were but a ship’s journey away, that Maitimo desired. Yet Galilas was wise enough to understand that her Noldorin kin were subjected to a different yoke, that they did not have the freedom of the sea as she and her people did. Momentarily a darkness washed through her, filling her with dread, but the sound of Findekáno’s laughter pulled her back. She’d grown to care about Maitimo and Findekáno, falling in love with the ocean anew through their young eyes. She hoped that the yoke upon the Noldor would loosen and perhaps they might yet find that largeness in life that was the Second Clan before the Journey.

Findekáno wrapped an arm around Maitimo, pulling him into a vigorous hug. With his other arm, he pulled Maitimo’s head down, kissing him excitedly on the head. “Do you feel it in you?” Findekáno whispered into Maitimo’s ears. “Do you feel the energy from Endórë, though we cannot see it?”

“I do!” Maitimo laughed, playfully pushing Findekáno away. “I do,” Maitimo breathed, closing his eyes, as the life that pulsated from Endórë merged with the very marrow of his bones. Maitimo was not one gifted with foresight, though at times he would have rare visions of things that he could not make sense of. _A momentary flash of light, like lightening. A torrential downpour. Unimaginable pain. And Findekáno’s face before him, a harrowing look upon him._ Sucking his breath in as if he had mere moments ago been drowning, Maitimo’s eyes shot open.

“What is it,” Findekáno came to stand next to Maitimo who was clutching onto the boat railing like his life depended on it.

Maitimo cast his eyes back out in the direction of Endórë. “It was a strange darkness, perhaps a vision. I do not know,” Maitimo shook his head, willing away the foreboding feeling. Findekáno wrapped his arm around Maitimo seeking no further answers. Such visions frequented Findekáno, more so than Maitimo, but they were hard to decipher. Even the wisest in Aman could not say what they were about, but fundamentally they all understood it was tied to the fragile political climate in Tirion.

Galilas quietly and unobtrusively observed the two, watching how they went from joy to a strange tension in a matter of minutes. Touching the figure of the Lady of the Harbor underneath her tunic, she sent a prayer out to the sea to be carried back to the Lady. _Give safe harbor to all those lost so that they too can find the freedom of joy…_

 

)()()()(

 

It was the time of the mingling of the lights when their boat approached the Falmari harbor. Findekáno stood on the precipitous lookout, leaning in the direction of the dock that grew larger as they approached. The wind pulled the loose strands of his hair across his face. Alqualondë glowed like a beacon. Its towers, encrusted with pearls and sapphires, sparkled, casting reflections on the still waters. Breathing in, Findekáno took in one last look at the beauty of the sight before him. Grabbing the rope that hung out of his pant pockets, Findekáno straddled the pole with his booted feet and rope, allowing himself to slide down the pole quickly, only to slow down as he reached the bottom. Once on deck he went down the stairs, to man the oars below deck.

Gently, the swan boat glided over the water, sliding in effortlessly towards the docks. The elves on the deck threw out ropes to those that stood on the docks, together, mooring the boat. Before long, the boat sat still, but their work was not over. Now came the task of unloading the fish and all that entailed. After that the boat needed to be cleaned and cared for. This boat had been out many a season and it needed more care than normal. Once dry docked it would be attended to in great detail. This was to be Maitimo and Findekáno’s last task on the boat.

 

)()()()

 

Maitimo and Findekáno knew their time in Alqualondë was drawing to a close. During the days they waited for the boat to dry, they spent time with Galilas’ family and with Olwë himself. Olwë was pleased that their time spent at sea had left a profound impact. In particular, he hoped that Maitimo could take some of that patience and peace that the sea teaches so well back to his fiery father, Fëanáro. Olwë was especially pleased with the impact the voyage had on Findekáno. The sea seemed to provide opportunity for Findekáno harness his impulsiveness into an intense focus. Being on a boat out at sea for stretches at time compelled such action.

But soon the time came when the boat was dry and ready for Maitimo and Findekáno’s last task.Long had they spoken about how to care for boats while out at sea, but now the time was come for them to learn first-hand. Findekáno and Maitimo woke early, departing Olwë’s home before the mingling of the lights. Walking quietly to the boat yard, each considered what lay ahead of them upon their return to Tirion. They could stay longer in Alqualondë, but both agreed that it was time to return and face whatever lingering consequences, necessary meetings, or otherwise uncomfortable situations might be waiting for them.  Findekáno paused at the entrance of the boat yard. Turning to face Maitimo, Findekáno shared, “I am yet young to understand what it means to be granted a life as long Arda, but I think I will always remember my time spent with you here as one of my most treasured memories.”

Findekáno’s words were unexpected. Maitimo squeezed Findekáno’s shoulder, allowing himself to close the distance between them. Touching his forehead to Findekáno’s, Maitimo spoke quietly, “I will always remember this as the time I awakened once more. I couldn’t have done it alone.” Findekáno closed his eyes, allowing the stillness of space between them be the bond that spoke for them. There was no awkwardness in their intimacy, only great comfort. Behind them, someone cleared their throat. Findekáno and Maitimo pulled a part, startled but not embarrassed.

“Are you ready for your last task?” Galilas announced. Findekáno and Maitimo’s closeness was not a surprise for her. She suspected that there was more than just friendship and blood ties that drew the men to one another, but even Galilas was unwilling to see it as romantic love. A romantic love between two princes of the Noldor would harbor no good thing, bring only torment and pain. She did not wish this for Findekáno and Maitimo, thus she convinced herself that she saw something else.

“You lead and we shall follow,” Maitimo replied, falling into the well worn hierarchy established out at sea.  

Galilas shook her head in amusement. She was going to miss the two elves. She had grown close to them and was sad to know they would soon depart and get caught up in the whirlwind that was Tirion, that city she did not quite understand. Instead of allowing melancholy to claim her, she turned her attention to the work that awaited them. Leading them to narrow basin within which the boat sat on blocks surrounded by scaffolding.

Unwilling to allow themselves time to think too much upon what awaited them, they immediately took to their task, wasting no time. Galilas showed Maitimo and Findekáno how to look over the seams between the wooden planks on the boat and identify any that would have to be re-caulked. Soon all three began their task of cleaning out the old compound and cotton with a raking iron between the seams that needed replacing on the boat. Maitimo found this process soothing. As he removed the compound and cotton, Findekáno would follow priming the seams. Theirs was simple team work. They needn’t speak to know what the other needed next.

Once the old compound and cotton was removed, the two, with the help of their guide, moved on to paying to cotton- refilling the seams with the long cotton strands that would be tapped in with the raking iron and then covered over with putty. They had to be mindful to not overfill the seams as the cotton and wood of the boat would swell when returned to the water. While Maitimo finished paying the cotton, Findekáno readied the putty that would seal the cotton in place. It was a mix of linseed oil and red lead powder. Once ready Findekáno added grease to the mixture to prevent the putty from drying. With a putty knife, Findekáno carefully pushed the putty into the seams that Maitimo had payed with new cotton strips. Their guide followed Findekáno smoothing out the putty.

Galilas enjoyed working with the younger elves. It reminded her that the elves were still yet young, that ahead of them stretched the long march of time. Not an eternity, but something akin to it. Until the end of Arda. Though she was not one of the Unbegotten she had been born on the other side, made the journey, though her memories of the Journey reminded her that long her people tarried on the shores that now sat across the distance of the sea. Nevertheless, she found a familiar joy in Aman, and the simple work on the boat reminded her of the beauty in the quotidian.

“Do you regret coming to Aman?” Maitimo asked Galilas, sensing that she she was walking in memory and beyond.

Galilas paused her task. Findekáno also stopped, turning to look at Galilas. Findekáno could not imagine that too much regret filled her heart for the joy she showed them on the sea spoke of her contentment. Galilas laughed softly. “My dearest Nelyo, your people are strange cousins at times.” Galilas turned her attention back to her task, smoothing the putty once more. Findekáno resumed his work as well, but his ears were focused on Galilas’ for he knew she had more to say. Maitimo too understood that she was thinking about how to answer her more rebellious cousins of the Second Clan.

“Long we tarried before Journeying. This you both well know. But regret? Not regret, though I daresay admit I miss those who chose to stay behind.”

“And that is not regret?” Maitimo probed, his curiosity typical of his inquisitive mind.

Galilas inclined her head, acknowledging what sounded like a contradictory answer. “It is hard to explain, how I feel…now. I do not feel sundered from my folk. Not completely.”

Findekáno spoke up, “Because the ocean connects you back to Endórë.”

Looking up at Findekáno Galilas shook her head in agreement. “That is so.”

“I had not understood just how strong that connection was until now,” Maitimo mused speaking more to himself than to Galilas and Findekáno. Witnessing how the swell from Endórë merged with the swell from Aman had changed something in Findekáno and Maitimo, but what exactly that was, neither could yet know.

No more words were spoken as they finished their work. Maitimo resumed cleaning up their work space. Indeed, finishing up with their task took the better part of the day, but once done, Galilas informed the elves that though they were done with the task at hand, the work on the boat was not complete. As the trio finished cleaning up, Galilas explained what followed for the boat: “When launched, the crew of the boat will look for seams that have opened up.”

“Do you put in more putty?” Findekáno asked, understanding that Galilas was finishing the lesson.

“No. We simply fill those gaps with hard soap,” Galilas answered. “This slows whatever water comes in until she takes up.”

“So the soap will simply wash away?” Maitimo inquired.

“Yes,” Galilas answered looking over their handiwork.

“How long will it take for the planks to swell with water,” Findekáno asked, curious about the process.

“She’s a softwood,” Galilas answered, lovingly tracing the wood planks that gave shape to the boat, “She’ll take up quick with water.”

“Just as she dried out quick,” Maitimo replied.

Galilas shook her head in agreement. “Very well then my friends, it looks like our work here is done.”

Findekáno and Maitimo understood that her words were also a farewell. Findekáno spoke first. “Let us come together sooner in the long stretch of time than is customary for our people.”

“I would like that,” Galilas responded. Findekáno and Maitimo went to stand by Galilas, each wrapping an arm around her. Silently, arm in arm, they left the boat yard. The mingling of the lights announced the coming of Telperion and respite, signaling the coming closing of the season.

 

)()()()(

 

 


	8. The Return Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is rated mature/explicit for the content in this chapter.

Tirion loomed large, the light of Laurelin grew brighter as the light of Telperion dimmed. Findekáno understood he must soon take his leave of Maitimo whose home was located in the outskirts of town. Findekáno had been fighting his horse’s skittish energy for a while now. His steed was anxious to return to the familiar grasses of home in Tirion. Up ahead Findekáno could see the paved road that led to Fëanáro and Nerdanel’s estate. 

Maitimo too, grew uneasy. For him the road that would take him home made many anxieties resurface. Would he fall into his depression once more being returned to Tirion, being back home? Would he find the confines of his home, his room, a reminder of the depression he had left behind? Would he find it lingering in the shadows of those things familiar to him? Long had his depression been a companion that he half believed it waited for him at home. 

Findekáno quietly observed Maitimo, watched as his cousin’s eyes grew wide with apprehension. “Tell me Maitimo, what worries you, though I think I can guess…” Findekáno’s voice trailed off. 

Maitimo tore his eyes away from the familiar road, allowing them to rest on the face that gave him much comfort. Playing with his mare’s mane nervously, Maitimo bit his lip. He knew he could tell Findekáno, but he felt silly for harboring such feelings. 

Findekáno allowed his horse to come near Maitimo’s steed. Leaning over, Findekáno grabbed Maitimo’s hand. “Speaking aloud your fears will ease your heart,” Findekáno urged his cousin.   

Maitimo took in a deep breath, half embarrassed that the steel edge he had rediscovered in Alqualondë seemed to dissipate the closer he ventured home. Maitimo admitted, “I am afraid that once I return home, to Tirion, to my mother and father’s home, that I will find it there. That I will find my depression and succumb to it.” Maitimo apprehensively eyed the road once more. 

“That’s understandable,” Findekáno considered. “The objects, the people, and places you will face will remind you of that depression. Perhaps you may feel some anxiety and sadness return. But don’t you think that normal?” Findekáno inquired. “After all it has been some time that it was wedded to you so intimately.”

Maitimo nodded his head, rationally understanding all that Findekáno shared, but that did little to quell his nerves. Maitimo closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “I will try, but I am scared,” he admitted, heartened by Findekáno’s faith in him.

Findekáno’s horse danced beneath him, reminding him he was anxious to get home. Despite the reminder, Findekáno offered, “Then I will go with you, be there as you greet every familiar thing that awaits you in that house.” 

“You’d do that Findekáno?” Maitimo opened his eyes, finding Findekáno watching him with that typical intensity that revealed a hint of Findekáno’s latent power. Maitimo appreciated that Findekáno longed to see his family. He had mentioned how much he missed Turukáno and Irissë. Maitimo knew that being apart from Irissë had been hardest, for babies change so quickly. Indeed, it was one of the few heartaches Findekáno would voice during their time in Alqualondë, but Findekáno was also quick to remind himself that his departure from Irissë was of his own doing, of his own carelessness. Findekáno had vowed to himself that he would not allow himself to commit such folly that would cause him to spend too much time away from his family. He dearly missed them. “I appreciate the gesture Findekáno, but I can and will do this alone,” Maitimo asserted, determined to meet his fear.

)()()()(

They reached the juncture in the road where Maitimo would take the path to his home. “It is going to be strange to spend a night out of your company,” Maitimo shared, the mare prancing nervously beneath him. 

“It certainly is,” Findekáno answered, his eyes settling upon the familiar sight of his uncle’s home in the distance. 

“I do not wish to linger here,” Maitimo admitted. “I need to face this and the sooner the better.” 

“Call on me if you need anything,” Findekáno urged. “I will come.” 

Maitimo smiled at his cousin. “I know.” Maitimo was certain of that. 

“On with you then,” Findekáno commanded, slapping Maitimo’s horse on the rump, causing the horse to kick.

Maitimo let out a snort. “I’d like to get there in one piece,” he chided, both knowing that even if it tried, the horse could not topple Maitimo. Maitimo allowed the horse to take the path it knew so well.

Before Findekáno allowed his horse to stretch his legs, he called out to Maitimo who was turning on his mount to signal his farewell, “When next we see one another I believe there will be much to share!”

“Indeed!” Maitimo called out. Findekáno’s horse broke out into a gallop, eager to get home. Maitimo allowed his own horse to find her legs. “Very well, on with you,” he urged. Soon Maitimo was dismounting, his brother’s surrounding him excitedly. Fëanáro and Nerdanel watched from the door.

“Welcome back,” Tyelko punched Maitimo in the arm, the only sign of affection Maitimo’s brother was going to allow himself. Makalaurë pulled Maitimo into an embrace. “You have been missed.” Surrounded by his brothers, Maitimo felt great joy. How silly he had been? How did he not remember that there was also joy and love in his home. 

)()()()(

Fëanáro walked Maitimo to his room. Maitimo was exhausted. He and Findekáno had travelled during the silver night of Telperion to break their fast with their families. Though Fëanáro had not wanted Maitimo to depart for such a length to Alqualondë, he understood that there were reasons beyond Findekáno’s misfortune that were compelling Maitimo to leave Tirion. Having Maitimo back, seeing his unabashed joy, confirmed what Nerdanel had advised Fëanáro: that it would be good for Maitimo to leave Tirion to make sense of himself. And that Findekáno would be just the friend he needed to confide in. This burned Fëanáro that it was one of Nolofinwë’s sons that had won his son’s trust so completely, but Fëanáro’s thoughts were interrupted by Maitimo.

Maitimo leaned against his father, wrapping his arm around Fëanáro. “It is good to be home father,” Maitimo spoke amidst yawns 

“And I am happy to have you home,” Fëanáro declared, hugging Maitimo. Fëanáro gently took hold of Maitimo’s face. “My son you are my most beloved gift. Do not doubt this.”

Maitimo smiled, nodding, knowing what his father was trying to tell him. “I know,” he whispered.

“In time, when you are ready, we will speak,” Fëanáro continued. “But until then I need you to know that I would have you no other way, for if I desired different, I would wish away _you,_ my most precious creation _.”_ Fëanáro had tears in his eyes. Maitimo stilled, it was rare that his father displayed emotion.

“Father,” Maitimo breathed, feeling his own tears take shape. “Forgive me if I failed you, forgive me…”

Fëanáro broke down, burying his face in his son’s neck. Long had Fëanáro chastised himself for being blind to what truly was at the heart of Maitimo’s depression, for being blind to the deep self loathing his son had endured. Fëanáro was angry with the world, angry with the Valar, for imposing such stupid and arcane customs that cast his son as deviant. Eru created perfection in Maitimo after all. Fëanáro would protect Maitimo against all of Tirion, all of Aman if need be. Looking up to face his son, Fëanáro declared, “You will thrive.”

Maitimo wiped the tears that fell, studying his father’s face, finding his father’s grey eyes fixed on him. He could ask for no better father. Maitimo felt his heart would burst so great was the love of his family. They all knew—Tyelkormo and Makalaurë—and it was clear they all rejoiced in his health, in Maitimo being fully himself. “I will thrive,” Maitimo affirmed. His father’s confidence and pride filled him with warmth.

The two stood entwined for a time until Nerdanel wrapped her arms around her husband and eldest son, announcing quietly, “Rest my son. We have yet time to enjoy you before the start of the next season.”

Fëanáro took a step back, appraising Maitimo. “Sleep well.”

Maitimo lingered at the entrance of his bedroom. “I have missed you all so much,” Maitimo spoke, though he was quickly losing steam, remembering how very tired he was.

“On with you then,” Nerdanel soothed, gently pushing her son into his room.

“Good night,” Maitimo replied.

“Good night,” his parents answered. Nerdanel quietly closed the door to Maitimo’s room.

Maitimo inhaled deeply, allowing himself to remove his clothes as he exhaled. He was exhausted. Once ready for bed, he slipped under his familiar sheets. He began nodding off to sleep when he noticed his journal on his desk. His eyes shot open. In that journal were pages and pages of Maitimo’s words, words put on paper trying to figure out his depression. Words that tried to make sense of what it meant to desire only men. He grew anxious once more. _No!_ he thought to himself, _Not again!_ His anxiety grew until it threatened to burst out. Maitimo tried to will it away, tossing and turning in his bed, then stilling his mind and body to think it through it. Was this anxiety the same one that accompanied his depression? Or was his anxiety normal, a part of coming to terms with his sexuality and all that meant in conservative Tirion? _Breathe,_ he commanded himself, but it was hard to untangle the emotions that accompanied the anxiety he felt. Long had anxiety been a twin to his depression. Even though Maitimo understood that feeling anxious about such a predicament was normal, he was having a hard time distinguishing it from the anxiety that claimed him before. It was as if his body was hard wired for anxiety.

_Findekáno_! he cried out silently, _How I need to speak with you_. Findekáno allowed him space to talk, space to make sense of emotions that had become so entangled with his depression. Maitimo sat up, talking to himself aloud: “Breathe, breathe. This is normal. This is normal…” How he wished Findekáno was here.

Maitimo thought he heard the sound of something hitting his window, but he returned to his breathing exercise, figuring his mind was just anxious. But there it was again, the clinking sound of something against his window. And again! Maitimo ran over to his window, casting aside the curtains. This time he saw a small pebble hit his window. _Who on earth?_ Maitimo thought, opening his window. There looking up at him was Findekáno. But how? Why? 

Findekáno whispered as loud as he dared, “Can I come up?” 

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Maitimo answered, turning away from the window. 

Findekáno quickly cried out, “No!” a little louder than he wanted. Maitimo stuck his head out the window once more. 

“Why not?” 

Findekáno grew impatient. “I am going to climb up the trellis.” 

“Be careful!” Maitimo whispered recognizing that Findekáno had made up his mind. Findekáno leapt up lightly on the trellis and gracefully climbed up the latticing like a cat. Maitimo rolled his eyes. Findekáno liked to show off. Maitimo stepped away from the window as Findekáno let himself in. “What are you doing here?” Maitimo spoke, keeping his voice low. 

Findekáno shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say why myself. I said good night to my family and felt compelled to see you.” 

Maitimo sat down on his bed, a grin spreading on his face, despite the anxiety buzzing in his body just minutes before. Findekáno certainly had an uncanny knack to know when Maitimo needed him. 

Findekáno came to sit next to Maitimo. “It was strange,” Findekáno offered. “I’ve known nothing but great joy being reunited with my family, but the moment that door shut and I went to bed, I felt so alone. I decided then that if I was feeling this, you certainly would too. And so I came,” he added, his voice soft.

“And I was just thinking that I wished you were here,” Maitimo spoke knowing that Findekáno could guess what thoughts had crossed his mind earlier. “I tired to reason with myself but failed,” Maitimo admitted. 

“You did not fail,” Findekáno replied, “you have succeeded.”

“How?” Maitimo retorted. “I grew anxious knowing I have to face the prejudice of Tirion, knowing that I most likely have to conceal my true self.” 

“Of course you did Maitimo!” Findekáno answered excitedly, earning a shush from Maitimo, though Maitimo found the idea of shushing Findekáno unnecessary. Why were they being so secretive? Findekáno continued, his voice quieter, “On my way here I grew so angry knowing what you have to face, that I made up my mind--” 

“--made your mind up to what?” Maitimo interrupted, both amused and relieved.

“To act,” Findekáno replied, his voice a whisper, biting his lower lip: something Findekáno did when he was unsure of something.

Maitimo raised an eyebrow. He could tell Findekáno was hesitant about something. Findekáno drew closer to him, reaching his hand to turn Maitimo’s face towards his. “Finno?” Maitimo whispered. Findekáno’s eyes were drawn to Maitimo’s mouth.

“Such soft lips,” Findekáno mumbled, tracing Maitimo’s lower lip with his thumb.

“Are you well,” Maitimo stuttered, his heart beating so wildly he could not hear his own thoughts. The soft silver light of Telperion filtered in through Maitimo’s window, settling on Findekáno. He shimmered. His bright blue eyes shining with an intensity Maitimo had never seen. The silver light made his golden skin glow with a luminescence. Findekáno’s hair was free of braids, hanging loosely to his waste. How Maitimo wanted that hair to cascade over him. _Oh Findekáno how stunning you are, but jealously I will ward the world away from your beauty!_

Findekáno swallowed thickly, hesitating. Maitimo was so beautiful it made him ache. Maitimo’s full lips were parted, his breath shallow, unwilling to take a deep breath as if Findekáno was a butterfly who would be easily spooked. The silver light of Telperion made Maitimo’s hair burst into flame, but this flame came from within Maitimo. Findekáno drank in the perfection of Maitimo’s pale skin, the depth of his grey eyes, but what Findekáno wanted most was the soft, moist lips to be pressed to his.

Maitimo was about to speak when Findekáno quieted him with his lips. Maitimo felt his world spinning. A million thoughts ran through his head: _why is Findekáno kissing me; dear Eru, Findekáno is kissing me! Why!!!?_ Findekáno’s lips were soft and gentle, seeking permission to keep going. 

Findekáno whispered into the tentative kiss he shared with Maitimo. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” Maitimo muttered, now understanding why Findekáno sought secrecy when he came over. Findekáno pressed his lips more firmly against Maitimo’s, willing Maitimo’s mouth to open and close in the rhythm of the kiss Findekáno dictated. Maitimo’s doubt quickly gave way to fire. He tasted Findekáno, felt his heat, so familiar, yet manifested in a way Maitimo had not dreamed of ever sharing. The feel of Findekáno’s lips searching his own lips for permission to continue with the kiss ruptured something deep within Maitimo. Instinct took over. Maitimo opened his mouth, allowing his own lips to press against Findekáno’s. He’d never kissed another man, and while it felt the same as kissing a maiden, there was a passion present that not been there before. There was heat and fire kindling in Maitimo that had not been stoked in this way before. Findekáno grew bolder in his searching kiss, his tongue teasing Maitimo’s tongue. Maitimo melted into the kiss, allowing a moan to escape his lips. This was all Findekáno needed to hear to push Maitimo onto the bed, kneeling over him and deepening their kiss. 

Maitimo was the first to break the kiss. “Findekáno why are you doing this?” Maitimo felt compelled to ask, though this was everything he could desire, there still lingered doubt. 

Findekáno’s eyes were black with arousal. “What does it look like I am doing?” 

“I do not need this favor,” Maitimo responded, unsure of Findekáno’s motives. 

Findekáno growled, “This is no favor Maitimo. Tell me you do not feel a different fire kindled within you?”

“I do,” Maitimo breathed, his hips moving underneath Findekáno who was bearing down on him. He could feel Findekáno’s large arousal under his trousers. Findekáno could most certainly feel his as Maitimo was only in his underpants.

Findekáno ground down hard against Maitimo, allowing his penis to rub hard against Maitimo’s. Maitimo’s eyes narrowed. “Manwë’s balls,” he cursed, pulling Findekáno back into a kiss.

Findekáno chuckled as he kissed Maitimo. “Your balls are more preferable,” he teased, never allowing his lips to come apart from Maitimo’s.  Maitimo sniggered, pulling Findekáno against him, thrusting up against him so Findekáno could feel just how aroused he was.

Their kiss was raw, filled with unchecked emotion. It was as if all the time they had spent in Alqualondë manifested in the desire that now drove them. Their kissing grew frenzied. Both clumsily pulled at Findekáno’s clothes unsuccessfully. Findekáno pulled away momentarily to tear off his tunic, kissing and biting at Maitimo’s neck intermittently. Their teeth clashed accidentally while Maitimo hastily pulled off Findekáno’s boots. Both then moved to the task of Findekáno’s trousers, ripping at his pants that refused to cooperate with their clumsy hands. Findekáno had enough. Rolling aside, he pulled his pants down with one hand. With the other he ripped Maitimo’s underwear off, the latter helping out where he could.

Naked before one another, their hearts threatening to burst, they looked upon one another with new sight. Findekáno grabbed Maitimo’s erection, causing him to buckle beneath him. Maitimo followed suit. It was a passionate and rough taking. Their lips met once more. Their desire driving their kisses, their bodies moving hard against one another. “Harder, faster,” Maitimo demanded, moving his own hand over Findekáno’s, showing him just how he liked it. Findekáno complied, grabbing hold of his own penis and moving it alongside Maitimo’s. Maitimo’s hands wrapped around both shafts, stroking hard. With one hand Findekáno aided in Maitimo’s motions, and with his other he played with the underside of Maitimo’s balls, allowing his finger to tease at Maitimo’s entrance. Their love making was inelegant. It was everything it was meant to be in that moment: driving, raw, elemental. Their breathing was irregular, both trying not to cry out too loudly, afraid they would reveal to all what they were up to. 

Findekáno’s thrusting into their joined hands grew uneven, his body twitching, signaling the oncoming descent into bliss. He was going to come. Underneath him, Maitimo began to lose his own pace, finding ecstasy pulling his body to its own will. Their grip tightened on one another as the pulsating vigor of each man’s penis made known that they were reaching the the pinnacle of pleasure. Maitimo was the first to cum, followed closely by Findekáno. The cum shot up between them. Findekáno collapsed on Maitimo, the warm gooiness sealing them together momentarily.

It was a good while before their breathing regularized. Findekáno was the first to speak. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.” Findekáno buried his nose in the nape of Maitimo’s neck. Maitimo smelled of divinity, like he was made just for Findekáno.

Maitimo shivered beneath Findekáno. “Finno,” he whispered. Findekáno brought his face over Maitimo, allowing his body to hover just above him. “I did not expect this,” Maitimo spoke.

“Did you not?” Findekáno countered, his nose gently touching Maitimo’s. “Did you not?” he repeated his eyes pleadingly searching Maitimo’s for what he wanted to hear. 

Maitimo reached his hand into Findekáno’s hair pulling him tight against him. “You misunderstand me,” Maitimo murmured. “I dared not expect it.” 

Findekáno was about to offer a retort, but Maitimo continued, “I am not surprised by it.” Maitimo felt Findekáno’s body relax, but the tension was not fully released. “And by Eru this is the sweetest thing I have experienced,” Maitimo whispered into Findekáno’s ears, proceeding to kiss Findekáno on the neck. This time Findekáno relaxed completely into him. They lay like this for a while, allowing their breathing and their heartbeats to merge. 

After a while, Findekáno slid off Maitimo, propping himself up on his elbow so his eyes could linger on Maitimo. “I have wanted this for some time,” Findekáno revealed, “but I knew that you needed time to make sense of your own desires.”

Maitimo laughed. “And what about you Finno? All this time you supported me as I came to terms with my sexuality. What about you?”

Findekáno allowed his head to fall back on Maitimo’s pillow. Sighing, he answered, “I have never limited myself to only women. I’ve always known my desires are not based on what we call gender.”

Maitimo stilled next to Findekáno. While he understood what Findekáno revealed he realized that perhaps he wasn’t the first man Findekáno had been with. Findekáno felt Maitimo tense up next to him. “I know what you think. That you are not the first man I have been with. Should this matter? Should it matter if I sleep with a man or a woman or someone who belongs neither betwixt and between?”

Maitimo rolled over to face Findekáno. Maitimo knew he was being petty. Or perhaps he was jealous that Findekáno never felt the same need to police his desire as Maitimo had. In fact, Maitimo was startled at Findekáno’s revelation, but it made sense. Findekáno was about the body, his emotions were carried openly on his skin. Certainly, his desire would not depend such lazy demarcations constructed by Noldorin society. Of course, that is how Findekáno’s desires would be, not beholden to any law or custom! Maitimo chuckled, throwing his arms around Findekáno “Oh Finno if only I had your bravery!” 

Findekáno kissed Maitimo fiercely. Pulling away from him, Findekáno answered, “But Maitimo you do. Don’t you see that in your position, as first born of the crown prince, you are the most desired, the most in the eye of our people? In your position, I too would have been forced to curtail my desires!” Findekáno pulled Maitimo into him.  “I was allowed freedom for my station allows it. You were not allowed it. Your entire life in Tirion has been on display. It is a reason why your father takes you all away, is it not?” Findekáno dared not say that he believed it was in part Fëanáro’s fault for holding Maitimo out as an exemplary son, parading him about, to gain political will. 

Maitimo sighed. “It is, in part,” Maitimo agreed, thinking of all those moments since early childhood that he felt compelled to be the son his father desired. Fëanáro had expected much of Maitimo, but Maitimo had internalized perfection, wanted to please his father and grandfather, to his own detriment, perhaps as a way to make up for what was a deep sense of imperfection. “I am your elder and yet I find you have more insights on my life that me on mine. I had not considered what you just pointed out.” 

“Tis hardest to see the wood for the trees when it comes to one’s own life. Tell me you do not know me better than I know myself, see the forest I dwell in?” Findekáno teased.

Maitimo inclined his head. “Aye you have a point,” knowing that Findekáno was under the same scrutiny he was, but reacted to his own father’s demands upon him very differently than Maitimo. 

Findekáno grabbed Maitimo’s face with his hands. “And I have not toiled with the disease of depression as you have. This has clouded your thinking for the last couple of years. Do not forget this.”

Maitimo closed his eyes. Of course there was that. There would always be that, even if but a memory. “I am learning to forgive myself.” But something else was nagging at Maitimo. Biting his lips, he could not decide whether to ask Findekáno or remain silent. Findekáno would not compel him to share what he did not wish. “Why did you reveal none of this to me in Alqualondë?” 

Findekáno shifted, rolling over on Maitimo. “Oh,” Maitimo breathed, pinned down by Findekáno. Findekáno’s bright blue eyes locked on Maitimo studying the contours of Maitimo’s beauty. 

“I did,” Findekáno answered, “At least I tried to, but it was your space to confide in me, to gain back that fire that is you.” 

“Always thinking of others,” Maitimo countered. “What about your needs?”

Findekáno grinned. “My needs? Why do you think I came here tonight?”

Maitimo laughed softly, “I thought to be here for me.” 

“To be here for you and to tell you, to show you how I felt, what I needed from you.” Findekáno stole a deep kiss from Maitimo. Maitimo shifted underneath Findekáno, his flaccid penis beginning to harden.

“Finno,” Maitimo whispered, his hands tracing the muscles of Findekáno’s back. Findekáno deepened the kiss and Maitimo allowed his hands to fall to Findekáno’s behind, pulling Findekáno into him. Their kissing was messy and erotic and feral. Their bodies ground against one another, their moaning unchecked, announcing into the darkness that Laws and Customs did not matter. Prurience or depravity, lust or deviance, they were all that and more, and they relished in the tempestuousness of an unholy divinity.  

Maitimo pushed Findekáno off of him. “I need you to fuck me,” he commanded offering Findekáno his backside, finding confidence in his desire. Findekáno nearly came at the sight of his cousin’s supple but muscular back side. Findekáno grabbed Maitimo’s buttocks, spreading them open. With his hands he lifted Maitimo to have better access and with his tongue he broke the remaining border that remained between them. Maitimo almost collapsed with shock. The feel of Findekáno licking him, piercing him drove him crazy. It was not enough. “Fuck me,” Maitimo breathed, ordering Findekáno.

“As you wish,” Findekáno replied, his body shuddering with unchecked lust and desire. This was the Maitimo he knew. This was Maitimo as he should be: demanding, seeking, his own pleasure. Hastily Findekáno leaned over, grabbing his pants to retrieve something from one of the pockets.

“What is that?” Maitimo demanded, growing irate that Findekáno was not doing as he pleased.

“It is oil. I must prepare you.”

“Of course,” Maitimo huskily replied. He’d had anal sex with women but his mind was so blind with passion that he found it hard to have rationale thoughts.

Findekáno slicked his hand and his penis with the oil. Not gently, he penetrated Maitimo with one finger, followed very quickly by two. Scissoring with his fingers, Findekáno made Maitimo squirm. “I need fucking more,” Maitimo demanded. Findekáno complied shoving in a third finger, manipulating and stretching out Maitimo.

Maitimo pulled out Findekáno’s fingers. “Now,” he commanded.

In a less aroused state, Findekáno might have teased Maitimo, but he was so aroused that he could only think of fucking, of penetrating Maitimo. With one swift move he entered Maitimo, eliciting a moan from each. Maitimo moved back, willing Findekáno to fill him completely, not desiring any delicateness on Findekáno’s behalf. Findekáno was unable to offer that. Instead he was rough and unforgiving, driving, pounding into Maitimo, the sound of their bodies slapping against one another in a desperate motion.

Findekáno reached around and grabbed Maitimo’s hard penis, stroking it roughly. “F-u-ck,” Findekáno whispered, his voice breaking every time he thrust into Maitimo. Maitimo moaned and growled, “Har-der, f-u-ck me har-der,” his voice staccatoed, so intensely was Findekáno fucking him. “Yes,” Findekáno moaned, that sweet spot like a bright light ahead of him. Findekáno’s rhythm grew desperate, quick. “Nelyo!” he cried out into Maitimo’s neck, stifling the sound. Maitimo answered with moans punctuated by every sharp thrust of Findekáno inside him. Findekáno collapsed on Maitimo, his own seed spilling on the bed and Findekáno’s stroking hand.

“Oh Eru, oh Eru,” Findekáno repeated, trying to catch his breath. Maitimo’s hair got caught in his mouth, but he did not care. “Oh Eru,” he repeated, his mind still reeling from the explosion created between them. They created a million universes of light, but one by one the light diffused, and all that remained was the gentle glow of that creation. Findekáno was utterly spent, but he managed to roll Maitimo over so he could gift him one long, tender kiss. Maitimo hummed his pleasure into the kiss, but like Findekáno he had little energy for more.

Findekáno fell off Maitimo and onto his back. Maitimo rolled onto his stomach, turning to face Findekáno. A lopsided grin was all Maitimo could manage. Findekáno closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling, trying to catch his breath.

After minutes of listening to one another breath, Findekáno offered, “How do you feel now?” chuckling lazily.

Maitimo snorted. “I guess it’s not a surprise that I know what I like and want.”

Findekáno brought his arm across his body to caress Maitimo’s face. “As it should be,” Findekáno murmured, his eyes threatening to close. He was exhausted. “Do you think your family heard?” he whispered, his eyes taking longer to open with each blink.

Maitimo’s eyes fluttered open. “No, I believe not. I live in a separate wing if you recall.”

“Yes,” Findekáno muttered his eyes no longer opening, his mind lingering on why they tried to keep their voices down if in fact no one could here. It was probably the illicitness of what they were doing. “They will not think it weird I wake here?”

“No,” Maitimo answered, his voice caught in a yawn. “I think they half expect it. And your family, will they miss you?”

Findekáno shook his head. “I left a note. They will understand, expect it like yours.” The last thing Findekáno managed to do and say as he turned around to bring Maitimo into an embrace was: “And they have no clue about us.”

“Without a doubt,” Maitimo managed to say, earning a grunt from Findekáno.

The two drifted to sleep, content, and wrapped up in one another. What the next day would bring would surely be promising, at least even if it only stayed between the two. It would be the first day of something more, something new, that which was Maitimo and Findekáno:

 

The tale of two lovers

who together discovered

that love itself does not betray

But fear and pride make way

for broken hearts and severed ties

recalling the beauty of bluest eyes

 

Perhaps to find once more

love in the time of great war

a tale of love lost to doom

When only darkness and misery loom

and winter brings the last breath

for love succumbs at last to death

 

 

 

 

The End (And the beginning!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue, but this is the happy ending. The epilogue, not so much


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't get the details of the first kinslaying correct, like geography, timeline, but it wasn't my intent here. I liked the battle on the piers, on the dock, where Fingon and Maedhros first really had the chance to explore their love.

Epilogue

 

The elf held her dying son in her arms. He was convulsing and she knew not what to do. Trembling she passed her hands over his body, the blood would not stop. Even after her son died, the blood came, and all she could do was cling to him. She could not understand the carnage that surrounded her. She had spent all the contents of her stomach yet her body would wretch, heaving bile, for she had nothing else to give, but her pain, her grief was unimaginable and boundless.

 

She had seen him, his fiery red hair like a crown, seen how he hacked his way through body after body. She recognized that man whom she once named friend, but now she wished him never to have been. On that day she damned Maitimo, his brothers, and especially their father to a doom worse than she could name. How long she sat on that pier she could not say, but she felt eyes upon her. Looking up she saw him: his long black hair was disheveled, the neat braid now gone, his face haunted. His blue eyes reflected terror and disbelief, but the bloodied sword at his side and the bodies piled about him revealed him to be the source of that terror.

 

It was then that Findekáno saw his friend from long ago. She sat on the ground, her arms wrapped around a lifeless body. “Galilas,” Findekáno voice managed to sound out, though it sounded harsh, evil even. The confusion around him disappeared, it was as if it was only Galilas and Findekáno remained on that pier, on that fateful day. At least this is the memory Findekáno would have of the moment, despite what was said of elven memory.

 

Galilas looked upon him with horror. Findekáno moved towards her but she cowered, dragging her son with her, away from the kinslayer. She let out a guttural shriek. There were no words left in her. Findekáno raised his hand in her direction. Again she screamed, a sound that should not come from a person. Her eyes wide with fear, terrorized by the figure of Findekáno: kinslayer. Again and again she wailed. It was the only weapon she now had. She was not alone. The harbor was filled with the harrowing sound of loss, of unimaginable pain, rained down on innocents. Findekáno had understood this too late. He believed that Maitimo and the fore of Fëanáro’s peoples were under attack, but that did little to quell the horror stirring within him.

 

Findekáno stepped back, unable to, unwilling to tear his eyes away from Galilas and her dead son. He could not know if she was injured, he could not ask. Not now, not anymore. Findekáno stumbled on a body behind him, falling on his backside. His sword landed beside him. Grabbing it, Findekáno tried to stand up, but he kept slipping on the blood that ran thick on the docks. Galilas watched him, all traces of her humanity gone, replaced with something Findekáno did not know until that moment: the utter devastation of a person, a person so utterly stripped, that what remained was the shell of what once was.

 

Findekáno stumbled away from the pier, the sound of Galilas’ wailing filling his ears. He would never forget those eyes, the sound of her devastation, the sight of her son dead in her arms. He had been but Turukáno’s age when Findekáno and Maitimo had first met him.

 

Maitimo. The memory stirred different feelings of anguish. Just what had Maitimo become? What had Findekáno become? Findekáno’s steps took him further away from the bloody scene. He covered his ears with his hands as he retreated. He could not stand the sound of the wailing for it threatened to consume him, to eat him from the inside. But even if there were no sound and he were blind, Findekáno could not escape from the images that filled his head, images of him slicing, killing. Findekáno fell to the floor, emptying his stomach. He could still feel his sword piercing bodies, the way his sword slowed and he used his strength to plunge, the weight of flesh and bone against his sword. He had not expected the bone to catch the sword in the way it did. Hunting was not this crude.

 

“Findekáno,” a voice called out above him. “Atto,” Findekáno rasped, the bile burning his throat. Nolofinwë helped Findekáno stand, saw the terror in his son’s eyes, the guilt. “What have you done?” Nolofinwë whispered, pulling Findekáno into an embrace. What had his brother done? 

 

“Maitimo,” Findekáno whispered, “They attacked…” his voice faltered. Too great the cost for what had been confusion. Findekáno shivered. He felt riven, did not recognize the blood lust, the person, the beast he had succumb to. Findekáno shoved Nolofinwë away, his head spinning, he wanted the earth to swallow him up, but that was too easy, too merciful a reprieve. What awaited him, what awaited them all was a doom too dark to imagine in that moment. The sound of Galilas voice echoed in his mind or was she still wailing, her voice calling to him like a siren, to return and pay for his deeds?

 

Nolofinwë dropped to his knees, surveying the wreckage, the smoke curling from the ships that still burned, now wrecked in the harbor. He brought his hands to his mouth. He needed to make a decision quickly, speak to his brother, but Fëanáro had sailed North along with some of Nolofinwë’s host. Findekáno sat next to him, his eyes staring toward the bloodied pier. Nolofinwë had never seen Findekáno in this way, did not know what to say, what to do. He did not recognize what that look was that haunted Findekáno. There was an emptiness in his son’s eyes, or maybe it was pain. Findekáno was a kinslayer. Nolofinwë did not know what that even meant for his son, for his people that had participated in the battle.

 

“My lord,” an elf announced from behind, “we must flee North, another host of Teleri have been seen advancing from the city.”

 

“Then we shall go,” Nolofinwë replied bitterly, standing up. He pulled Findekáno to stand next to him. They could not stay. Fëanáro’s host and many of his people had fled on the ships North. Others had followed on shore.

 

Findekáno heard the shrieks of the Teleri that approached. It was done. There was no turning back now. His breathing slowed and he meditated upon the brutality of who he now was. Perhaps the wildness of Endórë was a better suitor for the mad Noldor. They were now kinslayers, whether in the right or not, this blood letting could not be over come. There was now a darkness wedded to Findekáno. “And I shall follow,” Findekáno whispered, falling in step by his father, and he followed, the face of his old friend trailing him: Galilas would be the face that would haunt him evermore, her son’s body held in her arms, victims of Noldor desires.

 

Nolofinwë shouted commands to those that remained on shore, his words filling the Noldor with the strength to go on even though each of them carried that horror from Alqualondë with them. In that moment Findekáno was in awe of his father’s power. He had witnessed the horror in his father’s eyes, the uncertainty as he looked at his own son, but now Nolofinwë was driven by a different fire, a fire he stoked by will alone to move forward, to move on. Indeed, Nolofinwë led the now tarnished Noldor to join Fëanáro in the North and then take the ill gotten ships to Endórë. There was no turning back.

 

There could be no turning back to the horror unleashed. In Endórë they would remake themselves. There they could be imperfect people, live their fiery passion, and die in battle against Morgoth. That was their fate. It was now up to them, so Nolofinwë believed. For Findekáno, it was somewhat ill fated though he had once dared dream of open lands and a people under the rule of only themselves, but now Endórë was that place destined for himself and those whose desires were truly dark. There was nothing left for him in Elvenhome. He made sure of that when his sword first drew blood.

 

Findekáno cried as they marched on, his hood hiding his tears from those around him. Gone was his innocence. Gone was his bright righteousness, replaced with a grim determination that would only grow. He would never be a better person than who he had been in the better days of light. Galilas’ face would always remind him of that. What he would do when he would see Maitimo, Findekáno did not know, but one thing was for certain: theirs, their love, was now a thing of the past, sacrificed on the piers of Alqualondë.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing this b/c I couldn't get Fingon's psychology right. I mean how can anyone. Well one could but it would take a hell of a lot more effort and time, and just well heartache than I am willing to give right now. Oh Fingon and Maedhros, damn you and your imperfect selves that afflict the fandom with so many feels!

**Author's Note:**

> *I use the convention of day and night. The trees thus correspond: Laurelin-day and Telperion-night with the mingling akin to dawn and dusk.


End file.
